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6000591 OCR 



ANALYSIS 



OF THE PHENOMENA OF THE 



HUMAN MIND. 



• j; 



/ 






-J 



ANALYSIS 

OF THE PHENOMENA OF THE 

HUMAN MIND 

BY JAMES MILL 

A NEW EDinOK 
WITH KOTES ILLOSTRATIVB AND CRTnCAL BT 

ALEXANDER BAIN 
ANDREW PINDLATER 

GEORGE GROTE 

EDITED WITH ADDITIONAL NOTES BT 
JOHN STUART MILL 




LONDON 
LONGMANS GREEN READER AND b\1&^ 



" In order to prepare the waj for a just and comprehensive 
system of Logic, a previous survey of our nature, considered as a 
great whole, is an indispensable requisite." — Philosophical Essays 
{Prelim, Dissert.) p. Ixvii. hy Dugald Stewart, £sq. 

"Would not Education be necessarily rendered more sys- 
tematical and enlightened, if the powers and faculties on which 
it operates were more scientifically examined, and better under- 
stood ?" — Ibid. p. xlviii. 



[Bigki of Drantlaiion reserved,} 



PEEFACE 



TO 



THE PRESENT EDITION. 



In the study of Nature, either mental or physical, the 
aim of the scientific enquirer is to diminish as much 
as possible the catalogue of ultimate truths. When, 
without doing violence to facts, he is able to bring one 
phenomenon within the laws of another ; when he can 
shew that a fact or agency, which seemed to be original 
and distinct, could have been produced by other known 
facts and agencies, acting according to their own laws ; 
the enquirer who has arrived at this result, considers 
himself to have made an important advance in the 
knowledge of nature, and to have brought science, in 
that department, a step nearer to perfection. Other 
accessions to science, however important practically, 
are, in a scientific point of view, mere additions to the 
materials : this is something done towards perfecting 
the structure itself. 

The manner in which this scientific improvement 
takes place is by the resolution of phenomena which 



VI PREFACE 

are special and complex into others more general and 
simple. Two cases of this sort may be roughly dis- 
tinguishedy though the distinction between them will 
not be found on accurate examination to be funda- 
mental. In one case it is the order of the phenomena 
that is analysed and simplified ; in the other it is the 
phenomena themselves. When the observed facts re- 
lating to the weight of terrestrial objects, and those 
relating to the motion of the heavenly bodies, were 
found to conform to one and the same law, that of the 
gravitation of every particle of matter to every other 
particle with a force varying as the inverse square of 
the distance, this was an example of the first kind. 
The order of the phenomena was resolved into a more 
general law. A great number of the successions which 
take place in the material world were shewn to be parti- 
cular cases of a law of causation pervading all Nature. 
The other class of investigations are those which deal, 
not with the successions of phenomena, but with the 
complex phenomena themselves, and disclose to us that 
the very fact which we are studying is made up of sim- 
pler facts : as when the substance Water was found to 
be an actual compound of two other bodies, hydrogen 
and oxygen ; substances very unlike itself, but both 
actually present in every one of its particles. By pro- 
cesses like those employed in this case, all the variety 
of substances which meet our senses and compose the 
planet on which we live, have been shewn to be con- 



TO THE PRKSENT EDITION. VU 

stituted by the intimate union, in a certain number of 
fixed proportions, of some two or more of sixty or 
seventy bodies, called Elements or Simple Substances, 
by which is only meant that they have not hitherto 
been found capable of further decomposition. This 
last process is known by the name of chemical analysis : 
but the first mentioned, of which the Newtonian gene- 
ralization is the most perfect type, is no less analytical 
The difierence is, that the one analyses substances into 
simpler substances ; the other, laws into simpler laws. 
The one is partly a physical operation ; the other is 
wholly intellectual. 

Both these processes are as largely applicable, and 
as much required, in the investigation of mental pheno- 
mena as of material. And in the one case as in the 
other, the advance of scientific knowledge may be 
measured by the progress made in resolving complex 
facts into simpler ones. 

The phenomena of the Mind include multitudes of 
facts, of an extraordinary degree of complexity. By 
observing them one at a time with suflicient care, it 
is possible in the mental, as it is in the material world, 
to obtain empirical generalizations of limited compass, 
but of great value for practice. When, however, we 
find it possible to connect many of these detached 
generalizations together, by discovering the more 
general laws of which they are cases, and to the 
operation of which in some particular sets of circum- 



Vm PREFACE 

stances they are due, we gain not only a scientific, but 
a practical advantage ; for we then first learn how far 
we can rely on the more limited generalizations ; 
within what conditions their truth is confined ; by what 
changes of circumstances they would be defeated or 
modified. 

Not only is the order in which the more complex 
mental phenomena follow or accompany one another, 
reducible, by an analysis similar in kind to the 
Newtonian, to a comparatively small number of laws 
of succession among simpler facts, connected as cause 
and effect ; but the phenomena themselves can mostly 
be shown, by an analysis resembling those of chemis- 
try, to be made up of simpler phenomena. " In the 
" mind of man," says Dr. Thomas Brown, in one of 
his Introductory Lectures, " all is in a state of con- 
" stant and ever-vaiying complexity, and a single 
" sentiment may be the slow result of innumerable 
" feelings. There is not a single pleasure, or pain, or 
*' thought, or emotion, that may not, by the influence 
" of that associating principle which is afterwards to 
" come under our consideration, be so connected with 
other pleasures, or pains, or thoughts, or emotions, 
as to form with them, for ever after, an union the 
" most intimate. The complex, or seemingly complex, 
" phenomena of thought, which result from the con- 
" stant operation of this principle of the mind, it is 
^' the labour of the intellectual inquirer to analyse, as 



€( 



<€ 



TO THE PRESENT EDITION. IX 

" it is the labour of the chemist to reduce the com- 
" pound bodies on which he operates, however close 
'' and intimate their combination may be, to their 
** constituent elements. . • . From the very instant 
** of its first existence, the mind is constantly exhibit- 
" ing phenomena more and more complex : sensations, 
'' thoughts^ emotions, all mingling together, and 
" almost every feeling modifying, in some greater or 
" less degree, the feelings that succeed it ; and as, in 
" chemistry, it often happens thai the qualities of 
'' the separate ingredients of a compound body are 
" not recognizable by us in the apparently different 
" qualities of the compound itself, — so in this spon- 
"' taneous chemistry of the mind, the compound senti- 
'' ment that results from the association of former 
'' feelings has, in many cases, on first consideration, 
'' so little resemblance to these constituents of it, as 
" formerly existing in their elementary state, that it 
"requires the most attentive reflection to separate, 
" and evolve distinctly to others, the assemblages 
" which even a few years may have produced." It is, 
therefore, " scarcely possible to advance even a single 
" step, in intellectual physics, without the necessity 
" of performing some sort of analysis, by which we 
" reduce to simpler elements some complex feeling 
" that seems to us virtually to involve them/' 

These explanations define and characterize the task 
which was proposed to himself by the author of the 

VOL. I. 6 



PREFACE 



present treatise, and which he concisely expressed by 
naming his work an Analysis of the Phenomena of 
the Human Mind. It if an attempt to reach the 
simplest elements which by their combination gene- 
rate the manifold complexity of onr mental states, and 
to assign the laws of those elements, and the elemen- 
tary laws of their combination, from which laws, the 
subordinate ones which govern the compound states 
are consequences and corollaries. 

The conception of the problem did not, of course, 
originate with the author; he merely applied to 
mental science the idea of scientific inquiry which had 
been matured by the successftJ pursuit, for many 
generations, of the knowledge of external nature. 
Even in the particular path by which he endeavoured 
to reach the end, he had eminent precursors. The 
analytic study of the facts of the human mind began 
with Aristotle ; it was first carried to a considerable 
height by Hobbes and Locke, who are the real 
founders of that view of the Mind which regards the 
greater part of its intellectual structure as having 
been built up by Experience. These three philoso- 
phers have all left their names identified with the 
great fundamental law of Association of Ideas ; yet 
none of them saw far enough to perceive that it is 
through this law that Experience operates in mould- 
ing our thoughts and forming our thinking powers. 
Dr. Hartley was the man of genius who first clearly 



TO THE PRESENT EDITION. XI 

discerned that this is the key to the explanation of 
the more complex mental phenomena, though he, too, 
was indebted for the original conjecture to an other- 
wise forgotten thinker, Mr. Gay. Dr. Hartley's 
treatise (" Observations on Man*') goes over the whole 
field of the mental phenomena, both intellectual and 
emotional, and points out the way in which, as he 
thinks, sensations, ideas of sensation, and association, 
generate and a<;count for the principal complications 
of our mental nature. If this doctrine is destined to 
be accepted as, in the main, the true theory of the 
Mind, to Hartley will always belong the glory of 
having originated it. But his book made scarcely any 
impression upon the thought of his age. He incum- 
bered his theory of Association with a premature 
hypothesis respecting the physical mechanism of sen- 
sation and thought ; and even had he not done so, his 
mode of exposition was little calculated to make any 
converts but such as were capable of working out the 
system for themselves from a few hints. His book is 
made up of hints rather than of proofs. It is like the 
production of a thinker who has carried his doctrines 
so long in his mind without communicating them, that 
he has become accustomed to leap over many of the in- 
termediate links necessary for enabling other persons to 
reach his conclusions, and who, when at last he sits 
down to write, is unable to recover them. It was 
another great disadvantage to Hartley's theory, that its 

b 2 



«1 PREFACE 

publication so nearly coincided with the commencement 
of the reaction against the Experience psychology, pro- 
voked by thp hardy scepticism of Hume. From these 
various causes, though the philosophy of Hartlej'^ never 
died out, having been kept alive by Priestley, the elder 
Darwin, and their pupils, it was generally neglected, 
until at length the author of the present work gave 
it an importance that it can never again lose. One 
distinguished thinker, Dr. Thomas Brown, regarded 
some of the mental phenomena from a point of view 
similar to Hartley's, and all that he did for psycho- 
logy was in this direction ; but he had read Hartley's 
work either very superficially, or not at all : he seems 
to have derived nothing from it, and though he made 
some successful analyses of mental phenomena by 
means of the laws of association, he rejected, or 
ignored, the more searching applications of those laws ; 
resting content, when he arrived at the more difficult 
problems, with mere verbal generalizations, such as 
his futile explanations by what he termed "relative 
suggestion." Brown's psychology was no outcome 
of Hartley's; it must be classed as an original but 
feebler effort in a somewhat similar direction. 

It is to the author of the present volumes that the 
honour belongs of being the reviver and second 
founder of the Association psychology. Great as is 
this merit, it was but one among many services which 
he rendered to his generation and to mankind. When 



TO THE PRESENT EDITION. XIU 

the literary and philosophical history of iiiis century 
comes to be written as it deserves to be. very few are 
the names figuring in it to whom as high a place will 
be awarded as to James Mill. la the vigour and 
penetration of his intellect he has had few superiors 
in the history of thought : in the wide compass of the 
human interests which he cared for and served, he was 
almost equally remarkable : and the energy and deter- 
mination of his character, giving effect to as single- 
minded an ardour for the improvement of mankind 
and of human life as I believe has ever existed, make 
his life a memorable example. All his work as a 
thinker was devoted to the service of mankind, either 
by the direct improvement of their beliefs and senti- 
ments, or by warring against the various influences 
which he regarded as obstacles to their progress : and 
while he put as much conscientious thought and 
labour into everything he did, as if he had never done 
anything else, the subjects on which he wrote took as 
wide a range as if he had written without any labour 
at all. That the same man should have been the 
author of the History of India and of the present 
treatise, is of itself sufficiently significant. The former 
of those works, which by most men would have been 
thought a sufficient achievement for a whole literary 
life, may be said without exaggeration to have been 
the commencement of rational thinking on the sub- 
ject of India: And by that, And his subsequent 



XIY PREFACE 

labours as an administrator of Indian interests under 
the East India Company^ he effected a great amount 
of goody and laid the foundation of much more, to the 
many millions of Asiatics for whose bad or good 
government his country is responsible. The same 
great work is full of far-reaching ideas on the prac- 
tical interests of the world ; and whUe forming an 
important chapter in the history and philosophy of 
civilization (a subject which had not then been so 
scientifically studied as it has been since) it is one of 
the most valuable contributions yet made even to the 
English history of the period it embraces. If, in 
addition to the History and to the present treatise, 
all the author's minor writings were collected ; the 
outline treatises on nearly all the great branches of 
moral and political science which he drew up for the 
Supplement to the Encyclopsedia Britannica, and 
his countless contributions to many periodical works ; 
although advanced thinkers have outgrown some of 
his opinions, and include, on many subjects, in their 
speculations, a wider range of considerations than his, 
every one would be astonished at the variety of his 
topics, and the abundance of the knowledge he ex- 
hibited respecting them all. One of his minor ser- 
vices was, that he was the first to put together in a 
compact and systematic form, and in a manner adapted 
to learners, the principles of Political Economy as 
renovated by the genius of Eicardo : whose great 



TO THE PEESENT EDITION. ^XV 

work, it may be mentioned by the way, would pro- 
bably never have seen the light, if his intimate and 
attached friend Mr. Mill had not encouraged and 
urged him, first to commit to paper his profound 
thoughts, and afterwards to send them forth to the 
world. Many other cases might be mentioned in 
which Mr. Mill's private and personal influence was a 
means of doing good, hardly inferior to his pubUc 
exertions. Though, like all who value their time for 
higher purposes, he went little into what is called 
society, he helped, encouraged, and not seldom 
prompted, many of the men who were most useful in 
their generation: fi'om his obscure privacy he was 
during many years of his life the soul of what is now 
called the advanced Liberal party ; and such was the 
effect of his conversation, and of the tone of his cha- 
racter, on those who were within reach of its influence, 
that many, then young, who have since made them- 
selves honoured in the world by a valuable career, 
look back to their intercourse with him as having had 
a considerable share in deciding their course through 
life. The most distinguished of them all, Mr. Grote, 
has put on record, in a recent publication, his sense 
of these obligations, in terms equally honourable to 
both. As a converser, Mr. Mill has had few equals ; 
as an argumentative converser, in modem times pro- 
bably none. All his mental resources seemed to be 
at his command at any moment, and were then freely 



Xvi PREFACE 



employed in removing difficulties which in his writings 
for the public he often did not think it worth while 
to notice. To a logical acumen which has always 
been acknowledged, he united a clear appreciation of 
the practical side of things, for which he did not 
always receive credit from those who had no personal 
knowledge of him, but which made a deep impression 
on those who were acquainted with the official cor- 
respondence of the East India Company conducted by 
him. The moral qualities which shone in his con- 
versation were, if possible, more valuable to those who 
had the privilege of sharing it, than even the intellec- 
tual. They were precisely such as young men of 
cultivated intellect, with good aspirations but a cha- 
racter not yet thoroughly formed, are likely to derive 
most benefit from. A deeply rooted tnist in the 
general progress of the human race, joined with a 
good sense which made him never build unreasonable 
or exaggerated hopes on any one event or contingency ; 
an habitual estimate of men according to their real 
worth as sources of good to their fellow-creatures, and 
an unaffected contempt for the weaknesses or tempta- 
tions that divert them from that object, — making 
those with whom he conversed feel how painful it 
would be to them to be counted by him among such 
backsliders ; a sustained earnestness, in which neither 
vanity nor personal ambition had any part, and which 
spread from him by a sympathetic contagion to those 



TO THE PRESENT EDITION. Xvii 



who had sufficient moral preparation to value and 
seek the opportunity ; this was the mixture of quali- 
ties which made his conversation almost unrivalled in 
its salutary moral effect. He has been accused of 
asperity, and there was asperity in some few of his 
writings; but no party spirit, personal rivalry, or 
wounded amour-propre ever fitirred it up. Even when 
he had received direct personal offence, he was the 
most placable of men. The bitterest and ablest attack 
ever publicly made on him was that which was the 
immediate i^ause of the introduction of Mr. Macaulay 
into public life. He felt it keenly at the time, but with 
a quite impersonal feeling, as he would have felt any- 
thing that he thought unjustly said against any 
opinion or cause which was dear to him ; and within 
a very few years afterwards he was on terms of per* 
sonal friendship with its author, as Lord Macaulay 
himself, in a very creditable passage of the preface 
to his collected Essays, has, in feeling terms, com- 
memorated. 

At an early period of Mr. Mill's philosophical life. 
Hartley's work had taken a strong hcrfd of his mind ; 
and in the maturity of his powers he formed and 
executed the purpose of following up Hartley's lead- 
ing thought, and completing what that thinker had 
begun. The result was the present work, which is 
not only an immense advance on Hartley's in the 
qualities which facilitate the access of recondite 



ZYUl PREFACE 

thoughts to minds to which they are new, but attains 
an elevation far beyond Hartley's in the thoughts 
themselves. Compared with it, Hartley's is little 
more than a sketch, though an eminently suggestive 
one : often rather showing where to seek for the 
explanation of the more complex mental phenomena, 
than actually explaining them. The present treatise 
makes clear, much that Hartley left obscure : it pos- 
sesses the great secret for clearness, though a secret 
commonly neglected — ^it bestows an extra amount of 
explanation and exemplification on the most ele- 
mentary parts. It analyses many important mental 
phenomena which Hartley passed over, and analyses 
more completely and satisfactorily most of those of 
which he commenced the analysis. In particular, the 
author was the first who fully understood and ex- 
pounded (though the germs of this as of all the rest 
of the theory are in Hartley) the remarkable case of 
Inseparable Association : and inasmuch as many of the 
more difficult analyses of the mental phenomena can 
only be performed by the aid of that doctrine, much 
had been left for him to analyse. 

I am far from thinking that the more recondite 
specimens of analysis in this work are always success- 
ful, or that the author has not left something to be 
corrected as well as much to be completed by his suc- 
cessors. The completion has been especially the work 
of two distinguished thinkers in the present genera- 



TO THE PRESENT EDITION. XIZ 

tion, Professor Bain and Mr. Herbert Spencer ; in the 
writings of both of whom, the Association Psychology 
has reached a still higher development. The former 
of these has favoured me with his invaluable colla- 
boration in annotating the present work. In the 
annotations it has been our object not only to illus- 
trate and enforce, but to criticise, where criticism 
seemed called for. What there is in the work that 
seems to need correction, arises chiefly from two 
causes. First, the imperfection of physiological 
science at the time at which it was written, and the 
much greater knowledge since acquired of the func- 
tions of our nervous organism and their relations with 
the mental operations. Secondly, an opening was 
made for some mistakes, and occasional insufficiency 
of analysis, by a mental quality which the author 
exhibits not unfrequently in his speculations, though 
as a practical thinker both on public and on private 
matters it was quite otherwise ; a certain impatience 
of detail. The bent of his mind was towards that, in 
which also his greatest strength lay; in seizing the 
larger features of a subject — ^the commanding laws 
which govern and coimect many phenomena. Having 
reached these, he sometimes gives himself up to the 
current of thoughts which those comprehensive laws 
suggest, not stopping to guard himself carefully in the 
minutiae of their application, nor devoting much of 
his thoughts to anticipating all the objections that 



XX PRKFACE 

could be made, though the necessity of replying to 
some of them might have led him to detect imperfec- 
tions in his analyses. From this cause (as it appears 
to me), he has occasionally gone further in the pursuit 
of simplification, and in the redaction of the more 
recondite mental phenomena to the more elementary, 
than I am able to follow him ; and has left some of 
his opinions open to objections, which he has not 
afforded the means of answering. When this appeared 
to Mr. Bain or myself to be the case, we have made 
such attempts as we were able to place the matter in 
a clearer light ; and one or other, or both, have sup- 
plied what our own investigations or those of others 
have provided, towards correcting any shortcomings 
in the theory. 

Mr. Findlater, of Edinburgh.. Editor of Chambers* 
Cyclopaedia, has kindly communicated, from the 
rich stores of his philological knowledge, the cor- 
rections required by the somewhat obsolete philology 
which the author had borrowed from Home Tooke. 
For the rectification of an erroneous statement respect- 
ing the relation of the Aristotelian doctrine of General 
Ideas to the Platonic, and for some other contributions 
in which historical is combined with philosophical in- 
terest, I am indebted to the illustrious historian of 
Greece and of the Greek philosophy. Mr. Grote's, Mr. 
Bain's and Mr. Findlater's notes are distinguished by 
their initials ; my own, as those of the Editor, 



TO THE PRESENT EDITION. XXI 

The question presented itself, whether the annota- 
tions would be most useful, collected at the end of the 
work, or appended to the chapters or passages to which 
they more particularly relate. Either plan has its re- 
commendations, but those of the course which I have 
adopted seemed to me on the whole to preponderate. 
The reader can^ if he thinks fit, (aml^ if he is a real 
student,^ I venture to recommend that he should do 
so) combine the advantages of both modes, by giving 
a first careful reading to the book itself, or at all 
events to every successive chapter of the book, with- 
out paying any attention to the annotations. No 
other mode of proceeding will give perfectly fidr play 
to the author, whose thoughts will in this manner 
have as full an opportunity of impressing themselves on 
the mind, without having their consecutiveness broken 
in upon by any other person's thoughts,, as they would 
have had if simply republished without comment. 
When the student has done all he can with the 
author s own exposition — has possessed himself of 
the ideas, and felt, perhaps, some of the difficulties, he 
will be in a better position for profiting by any aid 
that the notes may afford, and will be in less danger 
of accepting, without, due examination, the opinion of 
the last comer as the best. 



^ 



CONTENTS 



or 



THE FIRST VOLUME. 



Imtroduction 1 

CHAPTER L 

Sensation 2 

Section 1. Smell 7 

2. Hearing . 16 

8. Sight 21 

4. Taste 26 

6. Touch ' ... 28 

6. Sensations of Disorganization, or of the Ap- 

proach to Disorganization, in anj Part of 

the Body 87 

7. Muscular Sensations, or those Feelings which 

accompany the Action of the Muscles ... 40 

8. Sensations in the Alimentary Canal . • • • 45 

CHAPTER XL 
Ideas 51 

CHAPTER HL 
The Association of Ideas 70 

CHAPTER IV. 

Naming 127 

Section 1. Nouns Substantive 184 

2. Nouns Adjective ••.•.••... 144 

8. Verbs 151 

4. Predication 159 



• 



XXIV CONTENTS. 

Section 5. Pronouns 194 

6. Adverbs 199 

7. Prepositions 201 

8. Conjunctions 212 

CHAPTER V. 
Consciousness 223 

GHAPTEE VI. 
Conception • » 233 

CHAPTER Vn. 
Imagination 238 

CHAPTER VHI. 
Classification , 247 

CHAPTER IX. 

Abstraction . ». 294 

^ CHAPTER X. 
Memory 318 

CHAPTER XL 
BeHef. 341 

CHAPTER XII. 
Ratiocination 424 

CHAPTER XIII. 
Evidence 428 



Appendix 440 



ANALYSIS 



ETC. 



INTRODUCTION 

" I shall inquire into the original of those ideas, notions, or 
whatever else you please to call them, which a man ohserres and 
is conscious to himself he has in his mind; and the ways 
whereby the understanding comes to be furnished with them." 

Locke^ i. 1, 8. 

Philosophical inquiries into the human mind have 
for their main, and ultimate object, the exposition of 
its more complex phenomena. 

It is necessary, however, that the simple should be 
premised ; because they are the elements of which the 
complex are formed ; and because a distinct know- 
ledge of the elements is indispensable to an accurate 
conception of that which is compounded of them. 

The feelings which we have through the external 
senses are the most simple, at least the most familiar, 
of the mental phenomena. Hence the propriety of 
commencing with this class of our feelings. 

VOL. I. B 



2 SENSATION. [chap. I. 



CHAPTER I. 



SENSATION. 

" I shall not at present meddle with the physical consideration 
of the mind, or trouble myself to examine wherein its essence 
consists ; or by what motions of our spirits, or alterations of our 
bodies, we come to have any Sensation by our organs, or any 
Ideas in our understandings; and whether those ideas do in 
their formation, any or all of them, depend on matter or no. 
These are speculations which, however curious and entertaining, 
I shall decline, as lying out of my way in the design I am now 
upon." — Locke f i. 1, 2. 

Mr object, in what I shall say respecting the 
phenomena classed under the head of sensation, is^ 
to lead such of my readers as are new to this species 
of inquiry to conceive the feelings distinctly. All 
men are familiar with them ; but this very familiarity, 
as the mind runs easily from one well known object to 
another, is a reason why the boundary between them 
and other feelings is not always observed. It is 
necessary, therefore, that the learner should by 
practice acquire the habit of reflecting upon his 
Sensations, as a distinct class of feelings ; and should 
be hence prepared to mark well the distinction 
between them and other states of mind, when he 




CHAP. I.] SENSATION. 3 

advances to the analysis of the more mysterious 
phenomena. 

What we commonly mean, when we use the terms 
Sensation or phenomena of Sensation, are the feelings 
which we have by the five senses, — smell, taste, 
HEARING, TOUCH, and SIGHT. Thesc are the feelings from 
which we derive our notions of what we denominate 
the external world ; — the things by which we are 
surrounded : that is, the antecedents of the most 
interesting consequents, in the whole series of feelings, 
which constitute our mental train, or existence. 

The feelings, however, which belong to the five 
external Senses are not a full enumeration of the 
feelings which it seems proper to rank under {he 
head of Sensations, and which must be considered as 
bearing an important part in those complicated pheno- 
mena, which it is our principal business, in this 
inquiry, to separate into their principal elements, and 
explain. Of these unnamed, and generally unre- 
garded. Sensations, two principal classes may be dis- 
tinguished : — first, Those which accompany the action 
of the several muscles of the body; and, secondly. 
Those which have their place in the Alimentary 
Canal.* 

^ Important points of Psychology are raised in classifying 
the senses, and in assigning the order of their exposition. 
The author justly animadverts on the insufficiency of the 
common enumeration of the Five Senses, and indicates two 
grand omissions — the Muscular Sensibilities, and the feelings 
associated with Digestion. 

With regard to the first omission — the Muscular Feelings, — 
a farther advance has been found requisite. Instead of adding 
these to the list, as a sixth sense, they are made a genus apart^ 

b2 



4 SENSATION. [chap. I. 

and put in contrast to the Sensations as commonly understood. 
They are the feelings of our Activity, of the Active side of 
our nature, and are in relation to the Motor or Outcarrying 
nerves of the body. The Sensations proper, such as Smell 
and Hearing, are the feelings of our Receptivity, or Pas- 
sivity, and arise in connection with the Sentient, or Incarry- 
ing nerves. In the exercise of the senses, however, a muscular 
element is almost always combined. This is conspicuous in 
Touch, which is most frequently accompanied with movements 
of the hand, or other parts touched ; it is also the case with 
Sight, there being six muscles constantly engaged in moving 
the eye-ball. There is least muscularity in Hearing and 
Smell, but in neither is it wholly absent. Thus in Hearing, 
there are certain small muscles for adjusting the tightness of 
the membrane of the tympanum ; apart from which, there are 
movements of the head in conjunction with hearing. So in 
Smell ; the sniffing action with the breath is muscular. Never- 
theless, it is easy to separate, in all the senses, the passive and 
proper sensibility of the sense, (called by Hamilton the idw- 
pathic sensibility) from the active accompaniment We can 
make experiments upon passive touch, or pure contact ; we 
can isolate in our consciousness the optical sensibility of the 
eye ; we can eliminate activity from the ear ; and we can attend 
to the sensations of smell in their pure passivity. 

The best course of proceeding is to deal with Muscularity 
apart, in the first instance, and to give it the priority in the 
order of exposition. Chronologically it is an earlier fact of 
our being ; we move before we feel ; there is an inborn energy 
of action in the animal system, which goes out, as it were, 
and meets the objects of sensation. This is one reason of 
priority. Another is the fact just stated that movement 
accompanies all the senses, oris a common factor in sensation. 
To discuss its peculiar sensibility is thus a preparation for 
treating of the senses. 

The importance of drawing a broad line between the active 
and the passive branches of our primcury sensibilities is seen in 
various applications, but most especially in the problem of 



CHAP. I.] SENSATION. 6 

External Perception. The great distinction that this problem 
requires us to draw between the external and the internal 
sides of our being (so described by an imperfect metaphor) 
has its deepest foundation in the distinction between the sense 
of expended muscular energy and the feelings that are neither 
energy in themselves, nor vary definitely according to our 
energies. The qualities of things admitted on all hands to be 
qualities of the external (or object) world — called the Primary 
Qualities, — Resistance and Extension, — are modes of our 
muscular energies; the qualities that do not of themselves 
suggest externality, or objectivity, — the secondary qualities, as 
Heat, Colour, &c. — are our passive sensibilities, and do not 
contain muscular energy. When these secondary qualities 
enter into definite connections with our movements, they are 
then referred to the external, or object world. Light and 
colour, when varying definitely with our various movements, 
as postures and actions, are from that circumstance referred to 
the external, oinan-ego; without such connections they would 
be called internal or subjective states. 

The contrasted terms 'Object' and 'Subject' are the least 
exceptionable for expressing the fundamental antithesis of 
consciousness and of existence. Matter and Mind, External 
and Internal, are the popular synonyms, but are less free from 
misleading suggestions. Extension is the Object fact by 
pre-eminence ; Pleasure and Pain are the most marked phases 
of pure Subjectivity. Between the consciousness of extension 
and the consciousness of a pleasure there is the broadest line 
that can be drawn within the human experience ; the broadest 
distinction in the whole universe of being. These then are 
the Object and Subject extremes ; and, in the final analysis, 
the object extreme appears to be grounded on the feeling of 
expended muscular energy. 

The second omission alluded to is the Digestive Sensibility, 
which ought undoubtedly to be included among sensations, 
having all the constituents of a sense ; an object — the food ; 
a sensitive organ — the stomach ; and a characteristic form of 
sensibility or feeling. The author farther takes notice of 



6 SENSATION. [chap. I. 

' Sensations of Disorganization, or of the approach to Dis- 
organization, in any part of the body,' which too deserve to be 
reckoned among mental facts. He might farther have adverted 
to the acute and depressing feelings of the Lungs, in case of 
partial suffocation, with the exhilaration attending the relief 
from such a state, and the change from a close to a fresh at- 
mosphere. Moreover, there are states of purely physical 
comfort, associated with a vigorous circulation, with healthy 
innervation, with the proper action of the skin ; and feelings 
of discomfort and depression from the opposite states. A slight 
allusion to these various feelings occurs in chapter second 
towards the close. 

These various modes of sensibility seem to be fitly grouped 
together under the common head of Sensations of Organic 
Life: their detail being arranged according to the several 
organs — viz. — the Alimentary Canal, Lungs, Circulation, 
Nervous System, &c. These would make a sixth Sense pro- 
perly so called, or a department of passive sensibility. — jB. 




SECT. I.] SMELL. 



SECTION I. 



SMELL. 



It is not material to the present purpose in what 
order we survey the subdivisions of this elementary 
class of the mental phenomena. It will be convenient 
to take those first, which can be most easily thought 
of by themselves ; that is, of which a conception, free 
from the mixture of any extraneous ingredient, can be 
most certainly formed. For this reason we begin 

with SMELL.^ 

' The order of exposition of the senses is not a matter of 
indifiPerence. The author, like Gondillac, selected Smell to 
begin with, as being a remarkably simple and characteristic 
feeling ; he has founii another expository advantage in it, by 
disturbing our routine mode of regarding the intellect as prin- 
cipally made up of sensations of sight. It has a startling effect 
on the reader, to suggest a mental life consisting wholly of 
smells and ideas of smell. 

There are two principles of arrangement of the senses, each 
good for its own purpose ; it being understood that the active 
or muscular sensibility is taken apart from, and prior to, sensa- 
tion proper. 

The first is to take them in the order of Intellectual develop- 
ment. Some of the senses are evidently intellectual in a high 
degree, as Sight and Hearing, others are intellectual in a much 
smaller degree, as Smell and Taste. The organic sensations 
are still less connected with the operations of the intellect. 
Many of the least intellectual sensations are remarkably intense, 
as pleasure and pain ; perhaps more so than the intellectually 
higher class. The organic pains are more unendurable than 



8 SENSATION. [chap. I, 

In the Smell three things are commonly distin- 
guished. There is the organ, there is the sensation, 
and there is the antecedent of the Sensation, the ex- 

the worst pains of hearing or of sight, unless these are 
assimilated to the other class, by injury of the organs. 

The intellectual superiority of the higher senses shows itself 
in two ways, the one strictly in the domain of Intellect, the 
other in the domain of Feeling. As regards Intellect, it is 
shown in the predominance of the ideas of the higher senses. 
Our intellectual or ideal trains, the materials of thought and 
knowledge, are made up most of all of ideas of sight, next of 
ideas of hearing, to a less degree of ideas of touch or skin 
contact, and, least of all, of ideas of stomach and lung sensations 
or other organic states. The trains of the scientific man, of 
the man of business, and even of the handicraft worker, are 
almost entirely made up of ideas of sight and of hearing (with 
active or muscular ideas). Our understanding of the order of 
nature, our very notion of the material universe, is a vast and 
complex scheme of ideas of sight. 

The intellectual superiority of the higher senses in the 
domain of Feeling is connected with the remembrance or ideal 
persistence of pleasures and pains. The pleasures of Digestion 
are weakly and ineffectively remembered, in the absence of the 
actuality. The pleasures of Smell are remembered better. The 
pleasures and' pains of Hearing and Sight are remembered best 
of any. This gives them a higher value in life ; the addition 
made to the actual, by the ideal, is, in their case, the greatest 
of all. They are said, for this among other reasons, to be 
more refined. 

The arrangement dictated by the gradation of intellectiia- 
lity would be as follows : — 1. Sensations of Organic life. 
2. Taste. 3. Smell. 4. Touch. 6. Hearing. 6. Sight. 

The second principle of arrangement starts with Touch, as 
the most simple in its mode of action, and the most diffused in 
its operation. Touch consists in mere mechanical pressure on 
a sensitive surface ; this is the most simple and elementary of 



SECT. I.] SMELL. 9 

temal object, as it is commonly denominated,* to 
which the Sensation is referred as an effect to its 
cause. 

These three distinguishable particulars are common 
to all the five Senses. With regard to the organ, 
which is a physical rather than a mental subject of 
inquiry, I shall have occasion to say little more than 
is required to make my reader distinguish, with 
sufficient accuracy, the part of his body to which the 

all stimuli. The other senses are regarded as specialised 
modifications of Touch. 

In Hearing, the mode of action is touch or mechanical con- 
tact. In the remaining senses, the contact is accompanied with 
other forces. Taste and Smell involve chemical change, as well 
as contact. The action of Light on the eye is probably some 
species of molecular disturbance involving chemical action. 
This mode of viewing the order and dependence of the senses 
belongs more especially to the theory of the development of 
the organic system, which is made prominent in the Psychology 
of Mr. Herbert Spencer. The arrangement might be variously 
expressed : — it might be Touch, Hearing, Sight, Taste, Smell, 
Organic Sensibility ; or Touch, Hearing, Taste, Smell, Organic 
Sensibility, Sight. — jB. 

* It is necessary hero to observe, that I use, throughout 
this Inquiry, the language most commonly in use. This is 
attended with its disadvantages ; for on the subject of mind 
the ordinary language almost always involves more or less of 
theory, which may or may not appear to me to correspond with 
the true exposition of the phenomena. The advantages, how- 
ever, of not departing from familiar terms still appeared to me 
to preponderate ; and I am willing to hope, that such erroneous 
suggestions, as are sometimes inseparable from the language 
I have thought it best upon the whole to employ, will be cor- 
rected, without any particular notice, by the analysis which I 
shall present. — {Author's Note.) 



10 SENSATION. [chap. I. 

separate feelings of his five Senses belong. And with 
regard to the antecedent of the Sensation, or object 
of the Senses, the proper place for explaining what is 
capable of being known of it is at a subsequent part 
of this inquiry. My desire at present is, to fix the 
attention of the reader upon the sensation ; that he 
may mark it as a mental state of a particular kind, 
distinct from every other feeling of his nature. 

The organ of Smell, as every body knows, is 
situated in the mouth and nostrils, or in the nerves, 
appropriated to smelling, which are found in the 
passage between the mouth and nostrils, and in the 
vicinity of that passage. 

Though it appears to be ascertained that the nerves 
are necessary to sensation, it is by no means ascer- 
tained in what way they become necessary. It is a 
mystery how the nerves, similar in all parts of the 
body, afford us, in one place, the sensation of sound ; 
in another, the sensations of light and colours ; in 
another, those of odours, in another those of flavours, 
and tastes, and so on. 

With respect to the external object, as it is usually 
denominated, of this particular sense ; in other words, 
the antecedent, of which the Sensation Smell is the 
consequent ; it is, in vulgar apprehension, the visible, 
tangible object, from which the odour proceeds. Thus, 
we are said to smeU a rose, when we have the sensa- 
tion derived from the odour of the rose. It is more 
correct language, however, to say, that we smeU the 
odorous particles which proceed from the visible, 
tangible object, than that we smell the object itself; 
for, if any thing prevents the odorous particles, which 
the body emits, from reaching the organ of smell, the 



SECT. I.] SMELL. 11 

sensation is not obtained. The object of the sense of 
smelling then are odorous particles, which only 
operate, or produce the sensation, when they reach 
the organ of smell. 

But what is meant by odorous particles we are still 
in ignorance. Something, neither visible nor tangible, 
is conveyed, through the air, to the olfactory nerves ; 
but of this something we know no more than that it 
is the antecedent of that nervous change, or variety of 
consciousness, which we denote by the word smeU. 

Still farther. When we say that the odorous par- 
ticles, of which we are thus ignorant, reach the nerves 
which constitute the organ of smell, we attach hardly 
any meaning to the word reach. We know not 
whether the particles in question produce their effect, 
by contact, or without contact. As the nerves in 
every part of the body are covered, we know not how 
any external particles can reach them. We know not 
whether such particles operate upon the nerves, by 
their own, or by any other influence ; the galvanic, for 
example, or electrical, influence. 

These observations, with regard to the organ of 
smell, and the object of smeU, are of importance, 
chiefly as they show us how imperfect our knowledge 
still is of all that is merely corporeal in sensation, and 
enable us to fix our attention more exclusively upon 
that which alone is material to our subsequent in- 
quiries—that point of consciousness which we deno- 
minate the sensation of smell, the mere feeling, 
detached from every thing else. 

When we smeU a rose, there is a particular feeling, 
a particular consciousness, distinct from all others, 
which we mean to denote, when we call it the smell 



12 SENSATION. [chap. I. 

of the rose. In like manner we speak of the smell of 
hay, the smell of turpentine, and the smell of a fox. 
We also speak of good smells, and bad smells ; mean- 
ing by the one, those which are agreeable to us ; by 
the other, those which are oiSensive. In all these 
cases what we speak of is a point of consciousness, a 
thing which we can describe no otherwise than by 
calling it a feeling ; a part of that series, that succes- 
sion, that flow of something, on account of which we 
call ourselves living or sensitive creatures. 

We can distinguish this feeling, this consciousness, 
the sensation of smell, from every other sensation. 
Smell and Sound are two very different things ; so are 
smell and sight. The smell of a rose is different from 
the colour of the rose ; it is also different from the 
smoothness of the rose, or the sensation we have by 
touching the rose. 

We not only distinguish the sensations of smell 
from those of the other senses, but we distinguish the 
sensations of smell from one another. The smell of 
a rose is one sensation ; the smeU of a violet is another. 
The difference we find between one smell and another 
is in some cases very great ; between the smell 
of a rose, for example, and that of carrion or assa- 
foetida. 

The number of distinguishable smells is very great. 
Almost every object in nature has a peculiar smell ; 
every animal, every plant, and almost every mineral. 
Not only have the different classes of objects different 
smells, but probably different individuals in the same 
class. The different smells of different individuals are 
perceptible, to a certain extent, even by the human 
organs, and to a much greater extent by those of the 



SECT. I.] SMKLL. 13 

dog, and other animals, whose sense of smelling is 
more acate. 

' We can conceive ourselves, as endowed with smell- 
ing, and not enjoying any other faculty. In that 
case, we should have no idea of objects as seeable, as 
hearable, as touchable, or tasteable. We should have 
a train of smells ; the smell at one time of the rose, at 
another of the violet, at another of carrion, and so on. 
The successive points of consciousness, composing our 
sentient being, would be mere smells. Our life would 
be a train of smells, and nothing more. Smell, and 
Life, would be two names for the same thing. 

The terms which our language supplies, for speak- 
ing of this sense, are exceedingly imperfect. It would 
obviously be desirable to have, at any rate, distinct 
names for the organ, for the object, and for the sensa- 
tion; and that these names should never be con- 
founded. It happens, unfortunately, that the word 
SMELL is applicable to all the three. That the word 
smell expresses, both the quality, as we vulgarly say, 
of the object smelt ; and also the feeling of him by 
whom it is smelt, every one is aware. If you ask 
whether the smell, when I hold a violet to my nos- 
trils, is in me or in the violet, it would be perfectly 
proper to say, in both. The same thing, however, is 
not in both, though the two things have the same 
name. What is in me is the sensation, the feeling, 
the point of consciousness ; and that can be in no- 
thing but a sentient being. What is in the rose, is 
what I call a quality of the rose ; in fact, the antece- 
dent of my sensation ; of which, beside its being the 
antecedent of my sensation, I know nothing. If I 
were speaking of a place in which my senses had been 



14 SENSATION. [chap. I. 

variously affected, and should say, that, along with 
other pleasures, I had enjoyed a succession of the most 
delightful smells, I should be understood to speak of 
my sensations. If I were speaking of a number of 
unknown objects, and should say of one, that it had a 
smell like that of honey ; of another, that it had a 
smell like that of garlick ; I should be understood as 
speaking of the object of each sensation, a quality of 
the thing smelt. 

The word smell, beside denoting the sensation and 
the object, denotes also the organ, in such phrases as 
the following ; " Sight and Hearing are two of the 
inlets of my knowledge, and Smell is a third;" 
" The faculty by which I become sensible of odour is 
my Smell."' 

' It may be questioned whether, in the phrases here cited, 
the word Smell stands for the olfacfory organ. It would 
perhaps be most correct to say, that in these cases it denotes 
the abstract capacity of smelling, rather than the concrete 
physical instrument Even when smell is said to be one of 
the five senses, it may fairly be doubted whether a part of the 
meaning intended is, that it is one of the five organs of sensa- 
tion. Nothing more seems to be meant, than that it is one of 
five distinguishable modes of having sensations, whatever the 
intrinsic difference between those modes may be. 

In the authors footnote he recognises that the abstract 
power of smelling enters into this particular application of the 
word Smell ; and refers to a subsequent part of the treatise for 
the meaning of Power. But he thinks that along with the 
power, or as part of the conception of Power, the material 
organ is also signified. It seems to me that the organ does 
not enter in either of these modes, into the signification of 
the word. We can imagine ourselves ignorant that we possess 
physical organs; or aware that we possess them, but not 



SECT. I.] SM£LL. 15 

In the phrases in which smell is called a sense, as 
when we say, that smell is one of the five senses, there 
is considerable complexity. The term here imports 
the organ, it imports the sensation, and, in a certain 
way, it imports also the object. It imports the organ 
as existing continuously, the sensation as existing 
only under a certain condition, and that condition the 
presence of the object.* 

aware that our sensations of smell are connected with them. 
Yet on either of these suppositions the " power of smelling" 
would he perfectly intelligible, and would have the same mean- 
ing to us which it has now. — Ed, 

* It will naturally occur to some of my readers, that, in the 
term sense of smelling, the idea of power is also included. 
They will say, that when we speak of the sense of smelling, 
we mean not only the organ, but the function of the organ, or 
its power of producing a certain effect. This is undoubtedly 
true; but when the real meaning of the language is evolved, it 
onlv amounts to that which is delivered in the text. For 
what does any person mean when he says that, in the sense of 
smelling, he has the power of smelling ? Only this, that he 
has an organ, and that when the object of that organ is pre- 
sented to it, sensation is the consequence. In all this, there 
is nothing but the organ, the object, and the sensation, con- 
ceived in a certain order. This will more fully appear when 
the meaning of the relative terms, cause and effect, has been 
explained. — (^Author s Note.) 



16 SENSATION. [chap. I. 



SECTION II. 



HEARING. 



In Hearing, the same three particulars, the organ, 
the OBJECT, and the feeling, require to be dis- 
tinguished. 

The name of the organ is the Ear ; and its nice 
and complicated structure has been described with 
minuteness and admiration by anatomists and phy- 
siologists. 

In vulgar discourse, the object of our Sense of 
Hearing is a sounding body. We say that we hear 
the bell, the trumpet, the cannon. This language, 
however, is not correct. That which precedes the 
feeling received through the ear, is the approach of 
vibrating air to the ear. Certain bodies, made to 
vibrate in a certain way, communicate vibrations to 
the air, and the vibrating air, admitted into the ear, 
is followed by the sensation of hearing. If the air 
which the body makes to vibrate does not enter the 
ear, however the body itself may vibrate, sensation 
does not follow ; hearing does not take place. There 
is, in fact, no sound. Of the circumstances in which 
soimd is generated, part only were present. There 
was the organ, and there was the object, but not that 
juxta-position which is needed to make the antece- 
dent of the sensation complete. Air vibrating in 
juxta-position to the organ, is the object of Hearing. 

How air in vibration should produce the remark- 



SECT. II.] HEARING. 17 

able effect, called hearing, in the nerves of the ear, 
and no effect in those of the eye, in those of smelling, 
or those of taste, our knowledge does not enable ns 
to tell. 

It is not very difficult to think of the sensation of 
hearing, apart from the organ, and from the object, as 
well as from every other feeling. I hear the hum of 
bees. The feeling to which I give this name is a 
point of my own consciousness ; it is an elementary 
part of my sensitive being ; of that thread of con- 
sciousness, drawn out in succession, which I call my- 
self. I have the hearing ; it is a sensation of my 
own ; it is my feeling, and no other man's feeling ; 
it is a very different feeling from taste, and a very 
different feeling from smell, and from all my other 
feelings. 

I hear the song of birds, I hear the lowing of oxen, 
1 hear the sighing of the wind, I hear the roaring of 
the sea. I have a feeling, in each of these cases ; a 
consciousness, which I can distinguish not only from 
the feelings of my other senses, but from the other 
feelings of the same sense. If I am asked, what 
takes place in me, when a trumpet is unexpectedly 
sounded in the next room, I answer, a sensation, a 
particular feeling. I become conscious in a particular 
way. 

The number of those feelings which we are able to 
distinguish is very great. In this respect, the organ 
of hearing in man, is much more perfect than the 
organ of smell. The organ of hearing can distinguish, 
not only the voices of different classes, but of different 
individuals in the same class. There never, probably, 

VOL. I, c 



18 SENSATION. [CHAF. I. 

was a man whose voice was not distinguishable from 
that of every other man, by those who were familiarly 
acquainted with it. 

The most simple case of sound is that perhaps of a 
single note on a musical instrument. This note may 
be sounded on an endless number of instruments, and 
by an endless number of human voices, from no two 
of which will the same sound exactly be returned. 

We can think of ourselves as having the feelings 
of this class, and having no other. In that case, our 
whole being would be a series of Hearings. It would 
be one sensation of hearing, another sensation of 
hearing, and nothing more. Our thread of conscious- 
ness would be the sensation, which we denominate 
sound. Life and sound would be two names for the 
same thing. 

The language by which we speak of the " sense of 
hearing," is also imperfect. We have, indeed, the 
term Ear, to express the oegan, but we have no ap- 
propriate name for the sensation, nor for the object. 
The term sound is a name both of the sensation and 
the object. If I were asked, when the bell rings, 
whether the sound is in me, or in the bell, I might 
answer, in both ; not that the same thing is in both ; 
the things are different ; having the same name. The 
sensation called a sound is in me, the vibration called 
a sound is in the bell. Hearing is equally ambiguous ; 
a name both of the organ and the feeling. If asked, 
by which of my organs I have the knowledge of 
sound, I should answer, my hearing. And if asked 
what feeling it is I have by the ear, I still should say, 
hearing. Hearing is rarely made use of to denote 



SECT. U.] HEARING. 19 

the object of hearing, and hardly at all except by 
figure. 

Noise is a name which denotes the object, in cer- ' 
tain cases. There is a certain class of sounds, to which 
we give the name noise. In those cases, however, 
noise is also the name of the sensation. In fact, it is 
the name of the sensation first, and only by transfer- 
ence that of the object. 

In the phrase, sense of hearing, the word has the 
same complexity of meaning, which we found in the 
word smelling, in the corresponding application of that 
term. When I say that I have the sense of hearing, 
I mean to say, that I have an organ, which organ has 
an appropriate object ; and that when the organ and 
the object are in the appropriate position, the sensa- 
tion of hearing is the consequent. In the term, sense 
of hearing, then, is included, the organ, the object, and 
the sensation, with the idea of a synchronous order 
of the two first, and a successive order of the third. 
" Sense of hearing" is thus seen to be the name of a 
very complex idea, including five distinguishable ingre- 
dients, the idea of the organ of hearing, the idea of 
the sensation, the idea of the object of hearing, the 
idea of a synchronous order, and the idea of a suc- 
cessive order.* 



^ In the case of hearing, as of smell, one of the ambiguities 
brought to notice by the author is of questionable reality, [t 
is doubtful if '' hearing" is ever used as a name of the organ. 
To the question supposed in the text, " by which of my organs 
do I have the knowledge of sound" the correct answer would 
surely be, not ** my hearing" — an expression which, so 

c2 



20 SENSATION. [chap. I. 

applied, could only be accepted as elliptical, — ^but " my organ 
of hearing/' or (still better) " my ear." Again, the phrase " I 
have the sense of hearing" signifies that I have a capacity of 
hearing, and that this capacity is classed as one of sense, or 
in other words, that the feelings to which it has reference 
belong to the class Sensations : but the organ, though a 
necessary condition of my haying the sensations, does not 
seem to be implied in the name. — Ed, 




SECT. III.] SIGHT. 21 



SECTION III. 



SIGHT. 



In SIGHT, the organ is very conspicuous, and has an 
appropriate name, the Eye. 

In ordinary language, the object of sight is the 
body which is said to be seen. This is a similar error 
to those which we have detected in the vulgar lan- 
guage relating to the senses of smell and hearing. 
It is Light alone which enters the eye ; and Light, 
with its numerous modifications, is the sole object of 
sight. 

How the particles of light afi^ect the nerves of the 
eye, in the peculiar maimer in which they are 
affected in sight, without afiecting the other nerves of 
the body, in any similar manner, we can render no 
account. 

That the feeling we have in sight, is very diflferent 
from the feeling we have in hearing, in smeUing, in 
tasting, or touching, every man knows. It is difficult, 
however, to deta<5h the feeling we have in sight from 
every other feeling ; because there are other feelings 
which we are constantly in the habit of connecting 
with it ; and the passage in the mind from the one to 
the other is so rapid, that they run together, and can- 
not easily be distinguished. The different modifica- 
tions of light we call colour. But we cannot think 
of the sensation of colour, without at the same time 



22 SENSATION. [chap. I. 

thinking of something coloured, of surface or exten- 
sion, a notion derived from another sense. 

That the feelings of sight which we are capahle of 
distinguishing from one another, are exceedingly- 
numerous, is obvious from this, that it is by them we 
distinguish the infinite variety of visible objects. 
We have the sensation ; the sensation suggests the 
object ; and it is only by the diflerence of sensation, 
that the difference of object can be indicated. 

Some of the things suggested by the sensations of 
sight, as extension and figure, are suggested so instan- 
taneously, that they appear to be objects of sight, 
things actually seen. But this important law of our 
nature, by which so many things appear to be seen, 
which are only suggested by the feelings of sight, it 
requires the knowledge of other elements of the 
mental phenomena to explain. 

The imperfections of the language, by which we 
have to speak of the phenomena of sight, deserve the 
greatest attention. 

We have an appropriate name for the organ ; it is 
the Eye. And we have an appropriate name for the 
Object ; it is light. But we have no appropriate 
name for the Sensation. From conftision of names, 
proceeds confusion of ideas. And from misnaming, 
on this one point, not a little unprofitable discourse 
on the subject of the human mind has been derived. 

The word sight, in certain phrases, denotes the 
sensation. If I am asked, what is the feeling which 
I have by the eye ? I answer, sight. But sight is ^o 
a name of the object. The light of day is said to be 
a beautiful sight. And sight is sometimes employed 
as a name of the organ. An old man informs us. 



8BCT. III.] SIGHT. 23 

that his sight is failing, meaning that his eyes are 
failing/ 

Colour is a name, as well of the object, as of the 
sensation. It is most commonly a name of the object. 
Colour is, properly speaking, a modification of light, 
though it is never conceived but as something spread 
over a surface ; it is, therefore, not the name of light 
simply, but the name of three things united, light, 
surface, and a certain position of the two. In many 
cases, however, we have no other name for the sensa- 
tion. If I am asked, what feeling I have when a red 
light is presented to my eyes, I can only say, the 
colour of red; and so of other visual feelings, the 
colour of green, the colour of white, and so on. 

In the term sense of sight, the same complexity ol 
meaning is involved which we have observed in the 
terms sense of smell, and sense of hearing. When I 
speak of my sense of sight, as when I speak of the 
attraction of the load-stone, I mean to denote an ante- 
cedent, and a consequent ; the organ with its object 
in appropriate position, the antecedent ; the sensation, 
the consequent. This is merely the philosophical 
statement of the fact, that, when light is received into 
the eye, the sensation of sight is the consequence. 

Vision, a word expressive of the phenomena of 

^ The example given does not seem to me to prove that 
sight is ever employed as a name of the organ. When an old man 
says that his sight is failing, he means only that he is less capable 
of seeing. His eyes might be failing in some other respect, 
when he woald not say that his sight was failing. The term 
" sense of sight," like sense of hearing or of smell, stands, as 
it seems to me, for the capability, without reference to the 
organ. — Ed. 



24 SENSATION. [chap. I. 

sight, is ambiguous in the same manner. It is some- 
times used to denote the sense of seeing ; that is, the 
antecedent and consequent, as explained in the preced- 
ing paragraph. Thus we say, the phenomena of 
vision, with the same propriety as we say the pheno- 
mena of sight. It is sometimes employed to denote 
the sensation. If we ask what feeling a blind man is 
deprived of, it would be perfectly proper to say, vision 
is the feeling of which he is deprived. It is, also, 
employed to denote the object. What vision was 
that ? would be a very intelligible question, on the 
sudden appearance and disappearance of something 
which attracted the eye.* 

• Vision, I believe, is used to denote the object of sight, 
only when it is supposed that this object is something unreal, 
i.e., that it has not any extended and resisting substance 
behind it : or rhetorically, to signify that the object looks more 
like a phantom than a reality ; as when Burke calls Marie 
Antoinette, as once seen by him, a delightful vision. — Ed. 




SECT. IV.] TASTE. 25 



SECTION IV. 



TASTE. 



The ORGAN of TASTE is in the mouth and fauces. 

In ordinary language, the object of taste is any 
thing, which, taken into the mouth, and tasted, as it 
is called, produces the peculiar sensation of this sense. 
Nor has philosophy as yet enabled us to state the 
object of taste more correctly. There are experiments 
which show, that galvanism is concerned in the pheno- 
mena, but not in what way. 

The SENSATION, in this case, is distinguished by 
every body. The taste of sugar, the taste of an apple, 
are words which immediately recall the ideas of distinct 
feelings. It is to be observed, however, that the 
feelings of this sense are very often united with those 
of the sense of smell ; the two organs being often 
affected by the same thing, at the same time. In that 
case, though we have two sensations, they are so in- 
timately blended as to seem but one ; and the flavour 
of the apple, the flavour of the wine, appears to be a 
simple sensation, though compounded of taste and 
smell.' 

^ Some physiologists have been of opinion that a large pro- 
portion of what are classed as tastes, including all flavours, as 
distinguished from the generic tastes of sweet, sour, hitter, 
&c., are really affections of the nerves of smell, and are mis- 
taken for tastes only because they are experienced along with 
tastes, as a consequence of taking food into the mouth. — Ed. 




26 SENSATION. [CHAF. I. 

It is not so easy, in the case of this, as of some of 
the other senses, to conceive ourselves as having this 
class of feelings and no other. Antecedent to the sen- 
sation of taste, there is generally some motion of the 
mouth, by which the object and the organ are brought 
into the proper position and state. The sensation can 
hardly be thought of without thinking of this motion, 
• that is, of other feelings. Besides, the organ of taste 
is also the organ of another sense. The organ of taste 
has the sense of touch, and most objects of taste are 
objects of touch. Sensations of touch, therefore, are 
intimately blended with those of taste. 

By a little pains, however, any one may conceive 
the sensations of tasting, while he conceives his other 
organs to remain in a perfectly inactive state, and 
himself as nothing but a passive recipient of one taste 
after another. If he conceives a mere train of those 
sensations, perfectly unmixed with any other feeling, 
he will have the conception of a being made up of 
tastes ; a thread of consciousness, which may be called 
mere taste ; a life which is merely taste. 

The language employed about this sense is not less 
faulty, than that employed about the other senses, 
which we have already surveyed. 

There is no proper name for the organ. The word 
Mouth, which we are often obliged to employ for 
that purpose, is the name of this organ and a great 
deal more. 

There is no proper name for the object. We are 
obliged to call it, that which has taste. The word 
flavour is used to denote that quality, which is more 
peculiarly the object of taste, in certain articles of 
food; and sometimes we borrow the word sapidity, 



81CT. IV.] TASTE. 27 

from the Latin^ to answer the same purpose more 
extensively. 

The word taste is a name for the sensation. We 
generally call the feeling, which is the point of con- 
sciousness in this case, by the name taste. Thus we 
say one taste is pleasant, another unpleasant ; and no- 
thing is pleasant or unpleasant but a feeling. 

The word taste is also a name for the object, as when 
we say, that any thing has taste. 

It is further employed as a name of the organ. As 
we are said to perceive qualities by the eye, the ear, 
and the touch ; so we are said to perceive them by the 
taste. 

In the phrase, sense of taste, there is the same com- 
plexity of meaning as we have observed in the corre- 
sponding phrase in the case of the other senses. In 
this phrase, taste expresses all the leading particulars ; 
the organ, the object, and the sensation, together with 
the order of position in the two first, and the order of 
constant sequence in the last.' 

^ The statement that " taste " is sometimes employed as a 
name of the organ, seems to me, like the similar statements 
respecting the names of our other senses, disputable. — Ed. 



28 SENSATION. [CHAF. I. 



SECTION V. 



TOUCH. 



In discoursing about the organ, the sensations, 
and the objects, of touch, more vagueness has been 
admitted, than in the case of any of the other senses. 

In fact, every sensation which could not properly 
be assigned to any other of the senses, has been 
allotted to the touch. The sensations classed, or 
rather jumbled together, under this head, form a kind 
of miscellany, wherein are included feelings totally 
unlike. 

The ORGAN of TOUCH is diffused over the whole 
surface of the body, and reaches a certain way into the 
alimentary canal. Of food, as merely tangible, there 
is seldom a distinct sensation in the stomach, or any 
lower part of the channel, except towards the ex- 
tremity. The stomach, however, is sensible to heat, 
and so is the whole of the alimentary canal, as far at 
least as any experiment is capable of being made. It 
may, indeed, be inferred, that we are insensible to the 
feeUngs of touch, throughout the intestinal canal, 
only from the habit of not attending to them.' 

• The surface of the sense of Touch properly so called is 
the skin, or common integument of the hody, the interior of 
the mouth and the tongue, and the interior of the nose. There 
are common anatomical peculiarities in these organs ; which 
distinguish them from the alimentary canal and all the other 



SECT, v.] TOUCH. 29 

We have next to consider the object of touch. 
Whatever yields resistance, and whatever is extended, 
figured, hot, or cold, we set down, in ordinary lan- 
guage, as objects of touch. 

I shall show, when the necessary explanations have 
been afforded, that the idea of resistance, the idea of 
extension, and the idea of figure, include more than 
can be referred to the touch, as the ideas of visible 
figure a^d magnitude include more than can be 
referred to the eye. It has been long known, that 
many of the things, which the feeling by the eye 
seems to include, it only suggests. It is not less im- 
portant to know, that the same is the case with the 
tactual feeling ; that this also suggests various par- 
ticulars which it has been supposed to comprehend. 

In the present stage of our investigation, it is not 
expedient to push very far the inquiry, what it is, or 
is not, proper, to class as sensations of touch, because 
that can be settled with much greater advantage here- 
after. 

The sensations of heat and cold offer this advantage, 
— ^that being often felt without the accompaniment of 

interior surfaces of the body. Moreover, although, in the ali- 
mentary caual, there is solid or liquid contact with a sensitive 
surface, the mode of exciting the sensitive nerves, and the 
resulting sensibility, are peculiar and distinct. The mode of 
action in touch is mechanical contact or pressure, mainly of 
solid and resisting bodies ; in digestion, the nerves are affected 
through chemical and other processes — solution, absorption, 
assimilation, &c. In touch, there is the peculiar feeling known 
as hard contact, together with the varying discrimination of 
plurality of points. In digestion, when healthy, the feeling of 
contact is entirely absent. — B. 





so SENSATION. [chap. I. 

any thing visible or extended, which can be called an 
object, thej can be more distinctly conceived as simple 
feelings, than most of our other sensations.'*' They 
are feelings very different from the ordinary sensa- 
tions of touch; and possibly the only reason for 
classing them with those sensations was, that the 
organ of them, like that of touch, is diffused over the 
whole body. We know not that the nerves appro- 
priated to the sensations of heat and cold are the 
same with those which have the sensation of touch. 
If they be the same, they must at any rate be affected 
in a very different manner. 

To whatever class we may refer the sensations of 
heat and cold, in their moderate degrees, it seems that 
good reasons may be given for not ranking them with 
the sensations of touch, when they rise to the degree 
of pain. All those acute feelings which attend the 
disorganization, or tendency toward disorganization, 

^^ The sensations of heat and cold are, of all sensations, 
the most subjective. The reason is that they are least con- 
nected with definite muscular energies. The rise and fall of 
the temperature of the surrounding air may induce sensations 
wholly independent of our own movements ; and to whatever 
extent such Id dependence exists, there is a corresponding 
absence of objectivity. This independence, however, is still 
only partial, even in the case of heat and cold ; in a great 
number, perhaps a majority, of instances, they depend upon 
our movements ; as in changing our position with reference to 
a fire, in our clothing, and so on. It is the possibility of con- 
ceiving them in the pure subject character, and apart from 
object relations, that constitutes them simple feelings, in the 
acceptation of the text. Although not in an equal degree, 
the same is true of sensations of hearing, on which the author 
made a similar remark. — B. 



iECT. v.] TOUCH. 81 

of the several parts of our frame, seem entirely 
distinct from the feelings of touch. Even in the 
case of cutting, or laceration, the mere touch of 
the knife or other instrument is one feeling, the pain 
of the cut, or laceration, another feeling, as much as, 
in the mouth, the touch of the sugar is one feeling, 
the sweetness of it another. 

As we shall offer reasons hereafter to show, that 
the feelings of resistance, extension, and figure, are 
not feelings of touch, we should endeavour to conceive 
what feeling it is which remains when those feelings 
are taken away. 

When we detach the feeling of resistance, we, of 
course, detach those of hardness and softness, rough- 
ness and smoothness, which are but different modi- 
fications of resistance. And when these, and the 
feelings of extension and figure, are detached, a very 
simple sensation seems to remain, the feeling which 
we have when something, without being seen, comes 
gently in contact with our skin, in such a way, that 
we cannot say whether it is hard or soft, rough or 
smooth, of what figure it is, or of what size. A sense 
of something present on the skin, and perhaps also on 
the interior parts of the body, taken purely by itself, 
seems alone the feeling of touch. 

The feelings of this sense are mostly moderate, 
partaking very little of either pain or pleasure. This 
is the reason why the stronger feelings, which are 
connected with them, those of resistance, and exten- 
sion, predominate in the groupe, and prevent atten- 
tion to the sensations of touch. The sensations of 
touch operate as signs to introduce the ideas of resis- 
tance and extension, and are no more regarded. 



32 SENSATION. [CUAP. 1. 

The imperfection of the language which we employ, 
in speaking of tliis sense, deserves not less of our 
regard, than that of the language we employ, in 
speaking of our other senses. 

We need distinct and appropriate names, for the 
organ, for the object, and for the sensation. We have 
no such name for any of them. 

The word touch is made to stand for all the three. 
I speak of my touch, when I mean to denote my organ 
of touch. I speak also of my touch, when I mean 
to denote my sensation. And in some cases, speak- 
ing of the object, I call it touch. If I were to call a 
piece of fine and brilliant velvet a fine sight, another 
person might say, it is a fine touch as well as fine sight." 

In ordinary language, the word feeling is appro- 
priated to this sense ; though it has been found con- 
venient, in philosophical discourse, to make the term 
generical, so as to include every modification of 
consciousness.* 

When I say that I feel the table, there is a con- 
siderable complexity of meaning. Dr. Reid, and his 
followers, maintain, that I have not one point of 

^^ It is more true of the word touch, than of the names of 
our other senses, that it is occasionally employed to denote the 
organ of touch ; because that organ, being the whole surface 
of the body, has not, like the organs of the special senses, a 
compact distinctive name. But it may be doubted if the word 
touch ever stands for the object of touch. If a person made 
use of the phrase in the text, *' it is a fine touch as well as a fine 
sight,'* he would probably be regarded as purchasing an 
epigrammatic turn of expression at the expense of some 
violence to language. — Ed. 

* *' The word feeling, though in many cases we use it as 



SECT, v.] TOUCH. 83 

consciousness only, but two ; that I feel the sensation, 
and that I feel the table ; that the sensation is one 
thing, the feeling of the table another. Expositions 
which will be given hereafter are necessary to the 
complete elucidation of what takes place. But the 
explanations which have been already afforded will 
enable us to state the facts with considerable clearness. 
In what is called feeling the table, my organ of touch, 
and an object of touch, in the appropriate position, 
are the antecedent ; of this antecedent, sensation is 
the consequent. The expression, " I feel the table," 
includes both the antecedent and the consequent. It 
does not mark the sensation alone ; it marks the 
sensation, and, along with the sensation, its ante- 
cedent, namely, the organ, and its object in con- 
junction. 

The phrase, sense of touch, or the word feeling, 
often synonymous, has the same complexity of mean- 
ing, which we have observed in the phrases, sense of 
hearing, sense of sight, and the rest of the senses. 

When I say that I touch, or have the sense of 
touch, I mean to say, that I have a certain feeling, 
consequent upon a certain antecedent. The phrase, 
therefore, notes the sensation, and at the same time 
connotes* the following things: 1st, the organ; 2dly, 

synonymous to Umching, bas, however, a much more exteosiye 
signification, and is frequently employed to denote our internal, 
as well as our external, affections. We feel hunger and thirst, 
we feel joy and sorrow, we feel love and hatred." — Ad. Smith, 
on the External Senses, — (Author's Note,) 

* The use, which I shall make, of the term connotation, 
needs to he explained. There is a large class of words, which 
denote two things, both together ; but the one perfectly dis- 

VOL. I. D 



34 SENSATION. [chap. I. 

the object of the organ ; 3dly, the sjmchronous order 
of the organ and object; 4thly, the successive order of 
the sensation ; the sjrnchronoos order being, as nsnal, 
the antecedent of the successive order.* " 



tingaishable from the other. Of these two things, also, it is 
observable, that such words express the one, primarily, as it 
were ; the other, in a way which may be called secondary. 
Thus, white, in the phrase white horse, denotes two things, the 
colour, and the horse ; but it denotes the colour primarily , 
the horse secondarily. We shall find it very convenient, to say, 
therefore, that it notes the primary, connotes the secondary, 
signification. — [Authors Note.) [Reasons will be assigned 
further on, why the words to connote and connotation had 
better be employed, not as here indicated, but in a different 
and more special sense. — Ed.] 

* The terms synchronous order, and successive order, will be 
fully explained hereafter^ when any obscurity which may now 
seem to rest upon them will be removed ; it may be useful at 
present to say, that, by synchronous order, is meant order in 
space, by successive order, order in time ; the first, or order in 
space^ being nothing but the placing or position of the objects 
at any given time ; the second, or order in time, being nothing 
but the antecedence of the one, and the consequence of the 
other. — (Author*s Note.) 

^* Additional Observations on the Sense of Towh. — The 
author is right in drawing a distinction between Touch proper 
and the sensibility to Heat and Gold, which, though prin* 
cipally found in the skin, extends beyond the seat of 
tactile sensibility, as, for example, to the alimentary canal, 
and to the lungs. It is a debated point, whether the nerves 
of Touch are also the nerves of Heat and Cold ; some persons 
contending for special nerves of Temperature. Such special 
nerves, however, have not been proved to exist. 

The remark is also correct, that the feelings of temperature 
can be more easily attended to, as simple feelings, than the 



SECT. Y.] TOUCH. 86 

feelings of loach proper. The reason is not precisely stated. 
It is that radiant heat may affect the surface of the body 
without occasioning resistance or movement^ and is thus a 
purely passive sensibility; a subject-state without an object- 
accompaniment. When the degree of the sensation varies 
definitely with definite movements, it is treated as an object 
sensibility, or as pointing to the object world. Thus when 
we grow warmer as we move in one direction, and colder as we 
move in anothw, we no longer think of the feeling as a purely 
subject fact^ but as having an object^ or external embodi- 
ment. 

It is also jusUy remarked in the text, that the severe sensa- 
tions of heat, and cold, as well as those from laceration of the 
skin, may be properly classed with feelings of disorganization 
g^QLerally. At the same time, these painful feelings have a 
character varying with the organ affected ; the fact of injury 
of tissue may be the same, but the feeling will not be the 
same, in the skin, the nostrils, the ear, the eye, the alimentary 
canal 

The description above given of the feeling that remains, 
when the different modifications of resistance are deducted, is 
scarcely adequate to represent the reality. Frequently it is 
true of them, that they ' are mostly moderate, partaking very 
little of either pain or pleasure,' but there are occasions when 
they rise into prominence and power. We may refer to the con- 
tact of the bedclothes at night, when the body is relieved from the 
tight and deadening embrace of the ordinary clothing. The case 
of greatest moment, however, is the contact of one human 
being or animal with another ; such contact being the physical 
element in the tender as well as in the sexual affections. There 
is a combination of tactile sensibility and warmth in this 
instance, each counting for a part of the pleasure. The in- 
fluence is well enough known as experienced among human 
beings ; but the sphere of its operation in animals has been 
but imperfectly explored. 

If we observe carefully the first movements of a new-bom 
animal, a mammal for example, we find that the guiding and 

d2 



36 SENSATION. [chap. I. 

controlling sensation of its first moments, is the contact with 
the mother. In that contact, it finds satisfaction and repose ; 
in separation, it is in discomfort and disquiet. Its earliest 
volitions are to retain and to recover the soft warm touch of the 
maternal body. When it commences sucking, and has the 
sensation of nourishment, a new interest springs up, perhaps 
still more powerful in its attractions, and able to supersede the 
first, or at least to put it into a second place ; yet, during the 
whole period of maternal dependence, the feeling of touch Is 
a source of powerful sensibility both to the mother and to the 
offspring. Among animals bom in litter, as pigs, kittens, &o., 
the embrace is equally acceptable between the fellow-progeny 
themselves. The sensual pleasure of this contact is the 
essence, the fact, of animal affection, parental and fraternal ; 
and it is the germ, or foundation, and concomitant of tender 
affection in human beings. It is the experience of this agree- 
able contact that prepares the way for a still closer conjunction 
after the animal reaches puberty. Independent of, and ante- 
cedent to, that still more acute sensibility, there is a pleasure 
in the warm embrace of two animals, and they are ready to 
enter upon it, at all times when the other interests, — as 
nourishment, exercise and repose, — are not engrossing. The 
play of animals with one another clearly involves the pleasure 
of the embrace, even without sexuality ; and it leads to the 
sexual encounter at the ripe moment. — B. 



8BCT. VI.] SENSATIONS OF DISORGANIZATION. 87 



SECTION VI. 

SENSATIONS OP DISORGANIZATION, OR OP THE 
APPROACH TO DISORGANIZATION, IN ANY PART 
OF THE BODY. 

That we liave sensations in parts of the body suffer- 
ing, or approaching to, disorganization, does not 
require illustration. The disorganizations of which 
we speak proceed sometimes from external, sometimes 
from internal, causes. Lacerations, cuts, bruises, 
burnings, poisonings, are of the former kind ; inflam- 
mation, and other diseases in the parts, are the latter. 

These sensations are specifically different from those 
classed imder the several heads of sense. The feelings 
themselves, if attended to, are evidence of this. In 
the next place, they have neither organ, nor object, 
in the sense in which those latter feelings have them. 
We do not talk of an organ of burning ; an organ of 
pain ; nor do we talk of an object of any of them ; we 
do not say the object of a cut, the object of an ache, 
the object of a sore. 

Most of those sensations are of the painfal kind ; 
though some are otherwise. Some slight, or locally 
minute infliammations, produce a sensation called 
itching, which is far from disagreeable, as appears 
from the desire to scratch, which excites it." 

^* The author, in this passage, uses the word itching out of 
its ordinary sense ; making it denote the pleasant sensation 



88 SENSATION. [chap. I. 

The scratcliing, whicli excites the pleasure of itching, 
is a species of friction, and friction, in most parts of 
the hody, excites a sensation very different from the 
mere sense of touching or the simple feeling of the 
object. The tickling of the feather in the nose, for 
example, is very different from the mere feeling of the 
feather in touch. In some parts of the body the most 
intense sensations are produced by friction. 

There is diflficulty in classing those sensations. 
They are not the same with those of any of the five 
senses : and they are not the same with those which 
rise from any tendency to disorganization in the parts 
of the body to which they are referred. Great accu- 
racy, however, in the classification of the sensations, 
is not essential to that acquaintance with them, which 
is requisite for the subsequent parts of this inquiry. 
It will suffice for our purpose, if the reader so far 
attend to them, as to be secure from the danger of 
overlooking or mistaking them, where a distinct con- 
sideration of them is necessary for developing any 
of the compUcated phenomena in which they are 
concerned." 

accompanying the relief by soratchiDg, instead of the slightly 
painful, and sometimes highly irritating, sensation which the 
scratching relieves. — Ed. 

^* Organic Sensibilities, — The author did well to signalize 
these sensibilities, so powerful in their influence on human life. 
They are not confined to the side of pain. The same organs 
whose disorganization is connected with pain, are, in their 
healthy and vigorous working, more or less connected with 
pleasure. This is true not merely of the digestive functions, 
but of the respiration, the circulation, and others. 

Nor is it difficult in their case to make up the full analogy 



SECT. VI.] SENSATIONS OP DISORGANIZATION. 89 

of a sense, as having an Object, an Organ, and a characteristio 
Sensation. In digestion, the object is the food, the organ is 
the alimentary canal ; in respiration, the object is the air, and 
the organ the lungs. If it be said that the air is an impalpable 
agent and not discovered to the mind by its mode of operating, 
so is heat, the obiect of an admitted sense. 

The accurate classification of these feelings may not have 
much speculative interest, in Psychology, but it has a great 
practical interest in the diagnosis of disease. For want of 
subjective knowledge on the part of the patient, and of a well 
nnderstood nomenclature of subjective symptoms, the dis- 
crimination of disease by the feelings is usually very rough. 

The best mode of arranging these sensibilities seems to be to 
connect them with their organs, or seats — Muscular Tissue, 
Bones and Ligaments, Nerves, Heart and Circulation, Lungs, 
Alimentary Canal. The sensations of itching and tickling are 
modes of skin sensibility. Tickling is an effect not well under- 
stood, although some interesting observations have been made 
upon it. — B. 



40 SENSATION. [chap. I. 



SECTION VII. 

MUSCULAR SENSATIONS, OR THOSE FEELINGS WHICH 
ACCOMPANY THE ACTION OF THE MUSCLES. 

There is no part of our Consciousness, which de- 
serves greater attention than this ; though, till lately, 
it has been miserably overlooked. Hartley, Darwin, 
and Brown, are the only philosophical inquirers into 
Mind, at least in our own country, who seem to have 
been aware that it fell within the province of their 
speculations. 

The muscles are bundles of fibres, which, by their 
contraction and relaxation, produce all the motions of 
the body. The nerves, with which they are supplied, 
seem to be the immediate instruments of the muscular 
action. 

That these muscles have the power of acute sensa- 
tion, we know, by what happens, when they are dis- 
eased, when they suflfer any external injury, or even 
when, the integuments being removed, they can bfe 
touched, though ever so gently. 

It has been said,* that if we had but one sensation, 

^ Itaque et sensioni adheeret, proprie diet®, ut ei aliqua in- 
sita sit perpetuo pbantasmatum varietas, ita ut aliud ab alio 
discemi posset. Si suppoDeremus, enim, esse hominem, ocalis 
quidem claris ceeterisqae videndi organis recte se habentibus 
compositam, nullo autem alio sensu preeditum, eumque ad 
eandem rem eodem semper colore et specie sine ulla vel minima 
varietate apparentem obversum esse, mihi certe, qaicquid 




SECT. VII.] MUSCULAR SENSATIONS. 41 

and that uninterrupted, it would be bs if we had no 
sensation at all ; and, to the justice of this observa- 
tion. some very striking facts appear to bear evidence. 
We know that the air is continually pressing upon 
our bodies. But, the sensation being continual, with- 
out any call to attend to it, we lose, from habit, the 
power of doing so. The sensation is as if it did not 
exist. We feel the air when it is in motion, or when 
it is hotter or colder, to a certain degree, than our 
bodies ; but it is because we have the habit of attend- 
ing to it in those states. As the muscles are always 
in contact with the same things, the sensations of the 
muscles must be almost constantly the same. This 
is one reason why they are very little attended to, 
and, amid the crowd of other feelings, are, in general, 
wholly forgotten. They are of that class of feelings 
which occur as antecedents to other more interesting 
feelings. To these the attention is immediately called 
off, and those which preceded and introduced them 
are forgotten. In such cases the thought of the less 
interesting sensations is merged in that of the more 
interesting. 

If we had not direct proof, analogy would lead us 
to conclude, that no change could take place, in parts 
of so much sensibility as the muscles, without a 
change of feeling ; in particular, that a distinguish- 

dicant alii, Don magis videre videretur, quam ego videor mihi 
per tactil^s organa sentire lacertorum meorum ossa. £a tarn en 
perpetuo et undequaque sensibilissima membraDa coDtinguDtur. 
— Adeo sentire semper idem, et non sentire, ad idem recidunt. 
Hobbes, Elem. Philos. Pars IV. c. xxv. § 6. — (Author's 
Note.) 



42 SENSATION. [CHAY. I. 

able feeling must attend every contraction, and relaxa- 
tion. We have proof that there is such a feeling, 
because intimation is conveyed to the mind that the 
relaxation or contraction is made. I will, to move my 
arm ; and though I observe the motion by none of my 
senses, I know that the motion is made. The feeling 
that attends the motion has existed. Yet so complete 
is my habit of attending only to the motion, and not 
to the feeling, that no attention can make me dis- 
tinctly sensible that I have it. Nay, there are some 
muscles of the body in constant and vehement action, 
as the heart, of the feelings attendant upon the action 
of which we seem to have no cognisance at all. That 
this is no argument against the existence of those 
feelings, will be made apparent^ by the subsequent ex- 
planation of other phenomena, in which the existence 
of certain feelings, and an acquired incapacity of at- 
tending to them, are out of dispute." 

In most cases of the muscular feelings, there is not 
only that obscurity, of which we have immediately 
spoken, but great complexity; as several muscles 
almost always act together ; in many of the common 
actions of the body, a great number. 

The result of these complex feelings is often suffi- 
ciently perceptible, though the feelings, separately, 
can hardly be made objects of attention. The un- 
pleasant feeling of fatigue, in part at least a muscular 
feeling, is one of those results. The pleasure which 
almost all the more perfect animals, especially the 

^^ The paradox, of feelings which we have no cognisance of 
— feelings which are not felt — will be discussed at large in a 
note. — Ed. 




SECT. VU.] MUSCULAE SENSATIONS. 43 

young, appear to feel, in even violent exercise, may be 
regarded as another. The restlessness of a healthy 
child ; the uneasiness in confinement, the delight in 
the activity of freedom, which so strongly distinguish 
the vigorous schoolboy; seem to indicate, both a 
painfdl state of the muscular system in rest, and a 
pleasurable state of it in action. Who has not re- 
marked the playful activity of the kitten and the 
puppy ? The delight of the dog, on being permitted 
to take exercise with his master, extends through the 
greater part of his life. 

One of the cases in which the feeling of muscular 
action seems the most capable of being attended to, 
is the pleasure accompanying the act of stretching, 
which most animals perform in drowsiness, or after 
sleep. 

A very slight degree of reflection is sufficient to 
evince, that we could not have had the idea of resist- 
ance, which forms so great a part of what we call our 
idea of matter, without the feelings which attend 
muscular action. Eesistance means a force opposed 
to a force ; the force of the object, opposed to the 
force which we apply to it. The force which we 
apply is the action of our muscles, which is only 
known to us by the feelings which accompany it. Our 
idea of resistance, then, is the idea of our own feel- 
ings in applying muscular force. It is true, that the 
mere feeling of the muscles in action is not the only 
feeling concerned in the case. The muscles move in 
consequence of the Will ; and what the Will is, we 
are not as yet prepared to explain. What is neces- 
sary at present is, not to shew all the simple feelings 
which enter into the feeling of resistance ; but to shew 



44 SENSATION. [chap. I. 

that the simple feeling of muscular action is one of 
them. 

The feeling of resistance admits of great varieties. 
The feeling of a plate of iron is one thing, the feeling 
of a blown bladder is another, the feeling of quick- 
silver is a third, the feeling of water a fourth, and so 
on. The feeling of weight, or attraction, is also a 
feeling of resistance. 




SECT. YIII.] SENSATIONS IN THE ALIMENTARY CANAL. 45 



SECTION VIII. 

SENSATIONS IN THE ALIMENTARY CANAL. 

When the sensations in the alimentary canal 
become acutely painful, they are precise objects of 
attention to every body. 

There is reason to believe that a perpetual train of 
sensations is going on in every part of it. The food 
stimulates the stomach. It undergoes important 
changes, and, mixed with some very stimulating in- 
gredients, passes into the lower intestines ; in every 
part of which it is still farther changed. The degree, 
and even the nature, of some of the changes, are 
different, according as the passage through the canal 
is slower, or quicker ; they are different, according to 
the state of the organs, and according to the nature of 
the food. 

Of the multitude of sensations, which must attend 
this process, very few become objects of attention ; 
and, in time, an incapacity is generated, of making 
them objects of attention. They are not, however, as 
we shall afterwards perceive, feeble agents, or insigni- 
ficant elements, in the trains of thought. They are 
of that class of feelings, to which we have already 
been under the necessity of alluding ; a class, which 
serve as antecedents, to feelings more interesting than 
themselves ; and from which the attention is so in- 
stantaneously drawn, to the more interesting feelings 
by which they are succeeded, that we are as little 
sensible of their existence, as we often are of the 



46 81N8ATION8 IN THB [cHAP. I. 

sound of the clock, which may strike in the room 
beside us, and of course affect our ear in the usual 
manner, and jet leave no trace of the sensations 
behind. 

The complicated sensations in the intestinal canal, 
like those in the muscles, though obscure, and even 
unknown, as individual sensations, often constitute a 
general state of feeling, which is sometimes exhilara* 
ting, and sometimes depressing. The effects of opium, 
and of inebriating liquors, in producing exhilaration, 
are well known ; and though much of the pleasure in 
these states is owing to association, as we shall after- 
wards explain, yet the agreeable feelings in the 
stomach, are the origin and cause of the joyous asso- 
ciations/' The state of feeling in the stomach in sea- 
sickness, or under the operation of an emetic, is, on 
the contrary, one of the most distressing within our 
experience ; though we can neither call it a pain, nor 
have any more distinct conception of it, than as a state 
of general uneasiness. 

The general effects of indigestion are well known. 
When the organs of digestion become disordered, and 
indigestion becomes habitual, a sense of wretchedness 
is the consequence ; a general state of feeling com- 
posed of a multitude of minor feelings, none of 

^* The exact mode of operation of opiam and alcohol is still 
unknown ; but the part affected is prohahly the nervous sub- 
stance and not the stomach. It can hardly be said with pro- 
priety that any part of the pleasure of these stimulants is due 
to association. No doubt the exhilarated tone of the mind is 
favourable to the flow of joyful ideas, which serve to heighten 
the pleasure ; but that pleasure could not be arrested or sub- 
through the absence of any supposable associations. — B, 




SECT, vm.] ALIHBNTART CAKAL. 47 

which individually can be made an object of atten- 
tion. 

In the sense of wretchedness, which accompanies 
indigestion, and which sometimes proceeds to the 
dreadful state of melancholy madness, it is difficult to 
say, how much is sensation, and how much association. 
One thing is certain ; that sensations which are the 
origin of so much misery are of high importance to 
us ; whether they, or the associations they introduce, 
are the principal ingredient in the afflicting state which 
they contribute to create. 

The effects of indigestion in producing painful asso- 
ciations, is strikingly exemplified by the horrible 
dreams which it produces in sleep ; not only in those 
whose organs are diseased ; but in the most healthy 
state of the stomach, when it has received what, in 
ordinary language, is said, whether from quantity or 
quality, to have disagreed with it. 

The general states of feeling composed of the mul- 
titude of obscure and unnoticed feelings in the alimen- 
tary canal, though most apt to be noticed when they 
are of the painful kind, are not less frequently of Hie 
pleasurable kind. That particular sorts of foods, as 
well as liquors, have an exhilarating effect, needs 
hardly to be stated. And it is only necessary to re- 
vive the recollection of the feeling of general comfort, 
the elasticity, as it seems, of the whole frame, the 
feeling of strength, the disposition to activity and 
enjoyment, which every man must have experienced, 
when his digestion was vigorous and sound.^" 

^7 These effects pass beyond the influeDce of mere digestion. 
All the viscera contribate to the condition of high general 



48 SENSATIONS IN THE [CHAP. I. 

vigour and comfort here supposed. If one were to venture 
upon a scale of relative importance of the different organs, one 
would place the nervous centres first, and the digestion 
second. 

The present section is open to several remarks. Some 
qualification must be given to the author's surmise ' that a per- 
petual train of sensations is going on in every part of the ali- 
mentary canal.' It is hardly correct to say that there are 
perpetual sensations in any part of it : during a great part of 
our time we are in a state of indifference as to stomachic 
changes ; and not merely because we are not disposed to attend 
to them, but because they scarcely exist. The sensibility of 
the organ is shown, on anatomical grounds, to be mainly in the 
stomach, and in the rectum ; these parts are supplied by the 
nervus vagus; and very few nerves, besides those of the 
sympathetic system, are found in the smaller, or in the larger 
intestine, so that the sensitiveness of those parts is manifested 
only in case of violent disorganization, as cramp, stoppage, or 
inflammation. Hence the feelings are principally attendant on 
the changes in the stomach, as when food has just been taken, 
and after long privation, when the state called hunger shows 
itself. 

It is not correct to class the sensations of the alimentary 
canal, as a whole, with those that lose their hold of the atten- 
tion, that become unheeded in themselves, and are valued only 
as the antecedents of other more pleasurable feelings. The 
remark is inapplicable to the sensations mainly characterized 
as pleasure or pain ; nothing can be more interesting than a 
pleasure, except a still greater pleasure. It applies only to 
those slight irritations that are in themselves nothing, but may 
be the symptoms or precursors of ill health, or of returning 
good health. 

The author's doctrine as to our acquiring artificially the 
habit of not attending to alimentary states, demands a fuller 
explanation. The usual cause of inattention to impressions is 
unbroken continuance ; in accordance with the universal law 




SBCt. Tin.] ALIMENTARY CANAL. 49 

of Relativity or Change, we are usually insensible to the 
contact of onr clothing with the skin, exc^t at the mo- 
ments when we put on or take off any part of it. In walking, 
and in standing, for a length of time, we are insensible to the 
body's weight ; on rising from the recumbent position we are 
rendered in some degree conscious of it. Now as the alimentary 
sensations — Hunger and Repletion — are intermitted and alter- 
nated with other states, they fulfil the chief condition of 
wakeful consciousness. 

The example of the striking of the clock, adduced in the 
text, brings into operation a different power of the mind, which 
may go far to counteract the influence of change. Under a 
very engrossing sensation, or occupation, we become insensible 
to the stimulation of the senses by other agents. The strain 
of the mind in some one direction causes a sort of incapacity 
forgoing out in any other direction while the strain lasts. 
This is the explanation of the indifference to the striking of 
the clock. By the farther influence of habit, inattention to 
a certain class of impressions may become habitual ; as in the 
power of carrying on mental work in the midst of distracting 
noises. 

The same effect may arise in connection with the alimentary 
feelings. A person yery much engrossed with a subject is un- 
conscious of hunger, and does not feel the pleasures of eating. 
Should any one be absorbed habitually with some occu- 
pation or pursuit, such an one may contract a settled in- 
difference to the recurring phases of alimentary sensation ; but 
this is an extreme and unusual case. Any ordinary degree of 
interest in the avocations and pursuits of business is compatible 
with full attention to the feelings of hunger^ and of repletion, 
as well as to the occasional pains and discomforts of indiges- 
tion. We do not often choose to contract an indifference to 
pleasures, and we seldom succeed in acquiring an indifference 
to pains, although we may have moments of such indifference, 
under some special engrossment of mind by other things. 

It is over-rating the influence of association to make it a 

VOL. I. B 



50 SENSATIONS IN THE ALIMENTABT CANAL. [CHAP. I. 

chief element in the pleasure of intoxicating stimulants^ or in 
the wretched feelings of diseased digestion. These states are 
direct results of physical agency, and are the same throughoat 
all stages of life, with many or with few opportunities of being 
associated with other feelings. They are not the cases fa- 
vourable for illustrating the power of association, in the 
important department of the feelings. — B. 



k 



CHAP. II.] IDEAS. 51 



CHAPTER II. 



IDEAS. 

''H»c in genere sors esse solet humana, ut quid in quovis 
genere recte aut cogitari aut effici possit sentiant prius quam 
perspiciant. Laborem autem baud ita levem ilium veriti, qui in 
eo impendendus erat ut, ideas operatione analjtica penitus 
evolventes, quid tandem veluit, aut qusBuam res agatur, sibi ipsis 
rationem sufficientem reddant, confusis, aut saltern baud satis 
explicatis rationibus, ratiocinia, et scientiarum adeo sjstemata 
superstruere solent communiter, eoque confidentius, quo ejus 
quam tractant scientiea iimdaroentum solidum magis ignorant." 
— Schmidt-Fhiseldek^ Philos. Oritica Hapontio Systematica^ t. i. 
p. 561. 

" Pour systematiser une science, c'est-sUdire, pour ramener une 
suite de pb^nomenes k leur principe, a un pbenomene el6men- 
taire qui engendre successivement tons les autres, il faut saisir 
leurs rapports, le rapport de g6n6ration qui les lie ; et pour cela, 
il est clair qu'il faut commencer par examiner ces differens pbd- 
nomenes separement." — Cousin^ JESragm, Fhilos., p. 8. 

The sensations which we have through the medium 
of the senses exist only by the presence of the object, 
and cease upon its absence ; nothing being here meant 
by the presence of the object, but that position of it 
with respect to the organ, which is the antecedent of the 
sensation ; or by its absence, but any other position. 

It is a known part of our constitution, that when 
our sensations cease, by the absence of their objects, 
something remains. After I have seen the sun, and 

£ 2 



53 IDEAS. [chap. II. 

by shutting my eyes see him no longer, I can still 
think of him. I have still a feeling, the consequence 
of the sensation, which, though I can distinguish it 
from the sensation, and treat it as not the sensation, 
but something diflferent from the sensation, is yet 
more like the sensation, than anything else can be ; so 
like, that I call it a copy, an image, of the sensation ; 
sometimes, a representation, or trace, of the sensa- 
tion. 

Another name, by which we denote this trace, this 
copy, of the sensation, which remains after the sensa- 
tion ceases, is idea. Tliis is a very convenient name, 
and it is that by which the copies of the sensation 
thus described will be commonly denominated in the 
present work. The word idea, in this sense, will 
express no theory whatsoever ; nothing but the bare 
fact, which is indisputable. We have two classes of 
feelings ; one, that which exists when the object of 
sense is present ; another, that which exists after the 
object of sense has ceased to be present. The one 
class of feelings I call sensations ; the other class of 
feelings I call ideas. 

It is an inconvenience, that the word idea is used 
with great latitude of meaning, both in ordinary, and 
in philosophical discourse ; and it will not be always 
expedient that I should avoid using it in senses dif- 
ferent from that which I have now assigned. I trust, 
however, I shall in no case leave it doubtful, in what 
sense it is to be understood. 

The term Sensation has a double meaning. It sig- 
nifies not only an individual sensation ; as when I 
say, I smell this rose, or I look at my hand : but it 
also signifies the general faculty of sensation ; that is, 




CHAP. II.] IDEAS. 58 

the complex notion of all the phenomena together, as 
a part of our nature. 

The word Idea has only the meaning which corre- 
sponds to the first of those significations ; it denotes an 
individual idea; and we have not a name for that 
complex notion which embraces, as one whole, all the 
different phenomena to which the term Idea relates. 
As we say Sensation, we might say also, Ideation ; it 
would be a very useful word ; and there is no objec- 
tion to it, except the pedantic habit of decrying a new 
term. Sensation would in that case be the general 
name for one part of our constitution, Ideation for 
another. 

It is of great importance, before the learner proceeds 
any farther, that he should not only have an accurate 
conception of this part of his constitution ; but should 
acquire, by repetition, by complete familiarity, a ready 
habit of marking those immediate copies of his sensa- 
tions, and of distinguishing them from every other 
phenomenon of his mind. 

It has been represented, that the sensations of sight 
and hearing leave the most vivid traces ; in other 
words, that the ideas corresponding to those sensations, 
are clearer than others. But what is meant by clearer 
and more vivid in this case, is not very apparent. 

If I have a very clear idea of the colour of the 
trumpet which I have seen, and a very clear idea of 
its sound which I have heard, I have no less clear 
ideas of its shape, and of its size ; ideas of the sensa- 
tions, neither of the eye, nor of the ear. 

It is not easy, in a subject like this, to determine 
what degree of illustration is needful. To those who 
are in the habit of distinguishing their mental pheno- 



54 IDEAS, [chap. II. 

mena, the subject will appear too simple to require 
illustration. To those who are new to this important 
operation, a greater number of illustrations would be 
useful, than I shall deem it advisable to present. 

It is necessary to take notice, that, as each of our 
senses has its separate class of sensations, so each has 
its separate class of ideas. We have ideas of Sight, 
ideas of Touch, ideas of Hearing, ideas of Taste, and 
ideas of Smell. 

1. By Sight, as we have sensations of red, yellow, 
blue, &c., and of the innumerable modifications of 
them, so have we ideas of those colours. We can 
think of those colours in the dark ; that is, we have a 
feeling or consciousness, which is not the same with 
the sensation, but which we contemplate as a copy of 
the sensation, an image of it ; something more like 
it, than any thing else can be; something which 
remains with us, after the sensation is gone, and 
which, in the train of thought, we can use as its re- 
presentative. 

2. The sensations of Touch, according to the limi- 
tation under which they should be understood, are not 
greatly varied. The gentle feeling, which we derive 
from the mere contact of an object, when we consider 
it apart from the feeling of resistance, and apart from 
the sensation of heat or cold, is not very different, as 
derived from different objects. The idea of this tactual 
feeling, therefore, is not vivid, nor susceptible of many 
modifications. On the other hand, our ideas of heat 
and cold, the feelings which we call the thought of 
them, existing when the sensations no longer exist, 
are among the most distinct of the feelings which we 
distinguish by the name of ideas. 




CHAP. II.] IDEAS. 56 

3. I hear the Sound of thunder ; and I can think 
of it after it is gone. This feeling, the representative 
of the mere sound, this thinking, or having the 
thought of the sound, this state of consciousness, is the 
idea. The hearing of the sound is the primary state 
of consciousness ; the idea of the sound is the second- 
ary state of consciousness ; which exists only when 
the first has previously existed. 

The number of sounds, of which we can have dis- 
tinct ideas, as well as distinct sensations, is immense. 
We can distinguish all animals by their voices. When 
I hear the horse neigh, I know it is not the voice of 
the ox. Why? Because I have the idea of the 
voice of the ox, so distinct, that I know the sensation 
I have, is different from the sensation of which that is 
the copy or representative. We can distinguish the 
sounds of a great number of different musical instru- 
ments, by the same process. The men, women, and 
children, of our intimate acquaintance, we can dis- 
tinguish, and name, by their voices ; that is, we have 
an idea of the past sensation, which enables us to 
declare, that the present is the voice of the same 
person. 

4. That the sensations of Taste recur in thought, 
when the sensation no longer exists, is a point of 
every man's experience. This recurring, in thought, 
of the feeling which we had by the sense, when the 
feeling by the sense is gone, is the idea of that feel- 
ing, the secondary state of consciousness, as we 
named it above." That we can distinguish a very 

^^ Discrimination and Retentiveness (the having of Ideas as 
the produce of Sensations) are different functions, although 



56 IDEAS. [chap. II. 

great number of tastes, and distinguish them accu- 
rately, is proof that we have a vast number of distinct 
ideas of taste; because, for the purpose of making 
such distinction, we have just seen that there must 
be a sensation and an idea; the sensation of the 
present object, and the idea of the sensation of each 
of the other objects from which we distinguish it. 
You have tasted port wine, and you have tasted 
claret; when you taste claret again, you can dis- 
tinguish it from port wine ; that is, you have the idea 
of the taste of port wine, in conjunction with the 
sensation of claret. You call it bad claret. Why ? 
Because, along with the present taste, you have the 
idea of another, which, when it was sensation, was 
more agreeable than the present sensation. 

5. Since we distinguish smells, as well as tastes, 

mutually involved, and, in all likelihood, developed in propor- 
tionate degrees in the same organ. We begin by discriminating 
changes of impression ^ this process is necessary in order to 
our having even a sensation ; the more delicate the discrimi- 
nating power, the greater the number of our primary sensations. 
He that can discriminate twenty shades of yellow has twenty 
sensations of yellow ; the two statements express the same 
fact. These various sensations being often repeated, acquire 
at last an ideal persistence ; they can be maintained as ideas, 
without the originals. The function or power of the Intellect 
whereby they are thus rendered self-subsisting as ideas, is not 
the same function as discrimination ; we call it Memory, Be- 
tentiveness, Adhesiveness, Association, and so on. What may 
be affirmed about it, on the evidence of induction^ is, that 
where discrimination is good, memory or retentiveness is also 
good. The discriminative eye for colour is accompanied with 
a good memory for colour ; the musical ear is both discrimi- 
native and retentive. — B. 




CHAP. II.} IDEAS. 57 

we have the same proof of the number and distinct- 
ness of the ideas of this class of sensations. There 
is none of the numerous smells to which we have 
been accustomed, which we do not immediately re- 
cognise. But for that recognition the idea of the 
past sensation must be conjoined with the present 
sensation. 

6. Of that class of sensations, which I have called 
sensations of disorganization, we have also ideas. We 
are capable of having the thought of them when the 
sensation is gone ; and that thought is the idea. A 
spark from the candle flew upon my hand : I had the 
sensation of burning. I at this moment think of that 
sensation ; that is, I have the idea of that sensation ; 
and I can think of it, as different from ten thousand 
other painfdl sensations ; that is, I have ideas of as 
many other sensations of this class. 

7. The ideas of the sensations which attend the 
action of the muscles are among the most important 
of the elements which constitute our being. From 
these we have the ideas of resistance, of compressi- 
bility, of hardness, of softness, of roughness, of 
smoothness, of solidity, of liquidity, of weight, of 
levity, of extension, of figure, of magnitude, of whole 
and of parts, of motion, of rest. It is, indeed, to be 
observed^ that these are all complex ideas, and that 
other feelings than the mere muscular feeling are con- 
cerned in their composition. In almost all the ideas 
referrible to the muscular feelings, of sufficient im- 
portance to have names, the Will is included. The 
muscular action is the consequent, the Will the ante- 
cedent; and the name of the idea, includes both. 
Thus the idea of resistance is the thought^ or idea^ of 



58 IDEAS. [chap. it. 

the feelings we have, when we will to contract certain 
muscles, and feel the contraction impeded.** * 

There is no feeling of our nature of more impor- 
tance to us, than that of resistance. Of all our sensa- 
tions, it is the most unintermitted ; for, whether we 
sit, or lie, or stand, or walk, still the feeling of resis- 
tance is present to us. Every thing we touch, at the 
same time resists ; and every thing we hear, see, taste, 
or smell, suggests the idea of something that resists. 
It is through the medium of resistance, that every 
act by which we subject to our use the objects and 
laws of nature, is performed. And, of the complex 
states of consciousness, which the philosophy of 
mind is called upon to explain, there is hardly one, in 
which the feeling or idea of resistance is not included. 

It is partly owing to this combination of something 

^® Rather, when we will to contract certain muscles, and the 
contraction takes place, but is not followed by the accustomed 
movement of the limb ; what follows, instead, being a sensation 
of pressure, proportioned to the degree of the contraction. It 
is not the muscular contraction itself which is impeded by the 
resisting ol^ect : that contraction takes place : but the oat- 
ward effect which it was the tendency, and perhaps the purpose, 
of the muscular contraction to produce, fails to be produced. 
—Ed. 

^ It is unnecessary to advert to the operation of the Will, Qn 
the first instance at least,) in considering the feelings of mus- 
cular action. The will is the principal, but not the only, 
source of our activity. The mere spontaneous vigour of the 
system may put the muscles in motion. Likewise the muscular 
pleasure itself operates, by the fundamental law of the will, 
for its own continuance; a process not commonly called 
voluntary. In thesef circumstances, it seems advisable to con- 
sider and describe the consciousness of muscular exertion by 
itself, and without reference to the will. — B, 



CHAP. II.] IDEAS. 59 

else with the muscular feeling, in all the states of con- 
sciousness to which we have given names, that it is 
so difficult to think of the mere muscular feeling by 
itself; that our notion of the muscular sensations is 
so indistinct and obscure ; and that we can rather be 
said to have ideas of certain general states of muscular 
feeling, as of fatigue, or activity, composed of a great 
number of individual feelings, than of the individual 
feelings themselves. 

8. As the feelings, or sensations which we have in 
the intestinal canal, are almost always mixed up indis- 
tinctly with other feelings, and, except in the cases of 
acute pain, are seldom taken notice of but as consti- 
tuting general states, we hardly have the power of 
thinking of those sensations one by one ; and, in con- 
sequence, can hardly be said to have ideas of them. 
They*are important, as forming component parts of 
many complex ideas, which have great influence on 
our happiness. But to unfold the mystery of complex 
ideas, other parts of our mental process have yet to 
be explained. 

There is a certain distressful feeling, called the feel- 
ing of bad health, which is considerably different in 
different cases, but in which sensations of the intes- 
tinal canal are almost always a material part. 

Indigestion is the name of an idea, in which the 
feelings of the intestinal canal are mainly concerned. 

Hunger, and thirst, are also names of ideas, which 
chiefly refer to sensations in the same part of our 
system." " 

*^ Thirst is a sensation of the fauces and of the stomach ; 
it is also a feeling of the body generally, due to a deficiency 



60 IDEAS. [chap. II. 

It is proper to remark, that, beside the internal 
feelings to which I have hitherto directed the reader's 
attention, there are others, which might be classed, 
and considered apart. The blood-vessels, for example, 
and motion of the blood, constitute an important part 
of our System, not without feelings of its own ; feel- 
ings sometimes amounting to states which seriously 
command our attention. Of the feelings which 
accompany fever, a portion may reasonably be as- 
signed to the change of action in the blood-vessels. 

There are states of feeling, very distinguishable, 

of water in the blood. It is also caused by an excess of saline 
ingredients in tho system. In like manner, a distinction is to 
be drawn between Inanition, from deficiency of nutritive ma- 
terial in the body, and Hunger, or the state of the stomach 
preparatory to the act of eating. The two states must in a 
great measure concur ; yet they may be distinct. 

The account of the organic states given in this chapter 
would have come in appropriately under Sensation. — B. 

^ I venture to think that it is not a philosophically correct 
mode of expression, to speak of indigestion, or of hunger and 
thirst, as names of ideas. Hunger and thirst are names of 
definite sensations ; and indigestion is a name of a large group 
of sensations, held together by very complicated laws of 
causation. If it be objected, that the word indigestion, and 
even the words hunger and thirst, comprehend in their meaning 
other elements than the immediate sensations ; that the mean- 
ing, for instance, of hunger, includes a deficiency of food, the 
meaning of indigestion a derangement of the functions of the 
digestive organs; it still remains true that these additional 
portions of meaning are physical phenomena, and are not our 
thoughts or ideas of physical phenomena ; and must, therefore, 
in the general partition of human consciousness between 
sensations and ideas, take their place with the former, and not 
with the latter. — Ed. 



CHAP. II.] IDEAS. 61 

accompanying diseased states of the heart, and of the 
nervous and arterial systems. 

Beside the blood and its vessels, the glandular 
system is an important part of the active organs of 
the body ; not without sensibility, and of course, not 
without habitual sensations. The same may be said 
of the system of the absorbents, of the lymphatics, 
and of the vascular system in general. 

The state of the nerves and brain, the most 
wonderful part of our system, is susceptible of 
changes, and these changes are accompanied with 
known changes of feeling. There is a class of dis- 
eases which go by the name of nervous diseases : and 
though they are not a very definite class ; though it 
is not even very well ascertained how far any morbid 
state of the nerves has to do with them ; it is not 
doubtful that in some of those diseases there are 
peculiar feelings, which ought to be referred to the 
nerves. The nerves and brain may thus be, not only 
the organs of sensations, derived from other senses, 
but organs of sensations, derived from themselves. 
On this subject we cannot speak otherwise than 
obscurely, because we have not distinct names for the 
things which are to be expressed. 

It is not, however, necessary, in tracing the simple 
feelings which enter into the more complex states of 
consciousness, to dwell upon the obscurer classes of 
our inward sensations ; because it is only in a very 
general way that we can make use of them, in ex- 
pounding the more mysterious phenomena. Having 
never acquired the habit of attending to them, and 
having, by the habit of inattention, lost the power of 
remarking them^ except in their general results^ we 



62 IDEAS. [chap. II. 

can do little more than satisfy ourselves of the cases 
in which they enter for more or less of the eflTect. 

We have now considered what it is to have sensar 
tionSy in the simple, uncompounded cases ; and what 
it is to have the secondary feelings, which are the 
consequences of those sensations, and which we con- 
sider as their copies, images, or representatives. If 
the illustrations I have employed have enabled my 
reader to familiarize himself with this part of his con- 
stitution, he has made great progress towards the 
solution of all that appears intricate in the pheno- 
mena of the human mind. He has acquainted him- 
self with the two primary states of consciousness ; the 
varieties of which are very numerous; and the possible 
combinations of which are capable of composing a 
train of states of consciousness, the diversities of 
which transcend the limits of computation.^ 



a 94 



^ The Sensation and the Idea compared. — Great importance, 
in every way, attaches to the points of agreement and of diffe- 
rence of the Sensation and of the Idea. By the Sensation, 
we mean the whole state of consciousness, under an actual or 
present impression of sense, as in looking at the moon, in lis- 
tening to music, in tasting wine. By the Idea is meant the 
state of mind that remains after the sensible agent is with- 
drawn, or that may be afterwards recovered by the force of re- 
collection. 

1. For many purposes the sensation and the idea are identi- 
cal. They are compared to original and copy, which, although 
not in all respects of equal value, can often answer the same 
ends. A perfect recollection of a process that we wish to repeat, 
is as good as actually seeing it. For all purposes of know- 
ledge, and of practical guidance, a faithful remembrance is 
equal to the real presence. So, as regards the emotional ideas, 
or the recollection of states of pleasure and of pain, which 



CHAP. II.] IDEAS. 63 

prompt our voluntary actions, in pursuit and in avoidance^ the 
memory operates in the same way as the original fact, allowance 
being made for difference of degree. A pleasing melody induces 
us to listen to it, and to crave for its repetition ; the after recol* 
lection of it» also moves us to hear it again. If we find our- 
selves in the midst of distracting noises, we are impelled to 
escape ; the mere remembrance, at an after time, has the 
same influence on the will. 

2. It is highly probable, if not certain, that the same ner- 
vous tracks of the brain are actuated during the sensation, and 
during the idea, with difference of degree corresponding to the 
difference of vivacity or intensity of the actual and remem- 
bered states. 

Of the points wherein the Sensation and the Idea are found 
to differ, the most obvious is their degree of intensity. We 
are able to maintain in idea, the state of mind corresponding 
to the sight of the sun, the sound of a bell, or the smell of a 
rose, but we are conscious of a great inferiority in the degree or 
vividness of the state. The bright luminosity of the original 
sun turns into a feeble effect, without dazzle or excitement. 
The thrill of a fine musical air cannot be sustained by the 
mere memory of it, even in the freshness of the immediately 
succeeding moment. A certain pleasing remembrance attaches 
to a good dinner, but how far below the original ! Moreover, 
in a complicated object of sense, a great many of the parts and 
lineaments drop entirely out of view. Memory is unequal to 
retaining, without long familiarity and practice, the exact pic- 
ture of a landscape, a building, or an interior. The difference 
in the fulnesB of the idea, as compared with the sensation, is 
no less remarkable than the difference of vivacity or intensity. 

This inferiority in the idea as compared with the actuality is 
of very various amount ; being in some cases very great, and 
in others very slight. The difference is in proportion to 
the mind's power of retentiveness, a power varying according 
to several circumstances or conditions, which have to be dis- 
tinctly enunciated by the Psychologist. For example, it is 
well known, that firequency of repetition enables the idea to 



64 IDEAS. [CBAP. II. 

grow ID viyacity and in fulness, and to approximate in thoM 
respects to the original. It is also known, that some minds 
are by nature retentive, and, by a small number of repetitionSy 
gain the point that others reach only by a greater number. 

Now, that the vivacity and fulness of a remembered idea 
should constitute the exact measure of the mind's retentiveneas 
in that particular instance, is a thing of course. There is no 
other measure of retentiveness but the power of reprodaoing 
in idea, what has been before us, in actuality, or as sensation ; 
and the greater the approach of the idea to the original sensa- 
tion, the better is the retaining faculty. 

There is an apparent exception to this general principle. 
The memory of the same idea, or the same feeling, in the same 
persoD, may be at one time full and vivid, and at another time 
meagre and faint. In particular moments, we may recall for- 
mer experiences with especial force, as if there were something 
that co-operated with the proper force of retentiveness. What» 
then, are these additional or concurring forces ? Hume recog^ 
nises the influence of disease in giving preternatural intensity 
to ideas. 

The answer is that some other recollection concurs with, 
and adds its quota to the support of, the one in question. 
When, in the view of one natural prospect, we recall another 
with great fulness, the present sensation supplies or fills in the 
parts of the remembered scene ; which scene, therefore, does 
not exist in the mind by memory alone, but as a compound of 
memory and actuality. So while listening with pleasure to a 
band of music, we remember strongly the pleasure of some 
previous musical performance ; yet, the vivid consciousness of 
the past is not dependent upon the memory of the past, bat 
upon the stimulus of the present ; we are more properly under 
sensation, than under idea. In all mental resuscitation, there 
is a degree of vividness and of fulness, due to the proper re- 
tentiveness of the mind for each particular thing, according to 
natural power, repetition, &c. Whatever is beyond this, must 
be ascribed to the accidental concurrence of other stimulants, 
either of present sensation, or of remembered impressions. 



CHAP. 11.] IDEAS. 65 

In recollection^ there is an influence designated by the term 
" excitement/' which means that portions of the brain are in a 
state of exalted activity. Any ideas embodied in the parts so 
excited, if in operation at all, are more than ordinarily vivid. 
Thus in fever, faded memories brighten up into vivacity and 
clearness. To this case the same remark applies ; the result is 
partly memory, or the proper retentiveness of the system, and 
partly an excitation of the brain, through present influences. 
The proper power of memory is a constant quantity, varying 
only with repetition, and the strict conditions of memory; 
the intensity or fulness of a resuscitated idea is a complex 
result of memory proper and present stimulants, or sensa- 
tions. 

Difference of vividness was the only distinction adverted to 
by Hume in his Psychology, which resolved all our intellectual 
elements into Impressions and Ideas. His opening words 
are : — '* All the perceptions of the human mind resolve them- 
selves into two distinct kinds, which I shall call impressions 
and ideas. The difference between these consists in the de- 
grees of force and liveliness, with which they strike upon the 
mind, and make their way into our thought or consciousness." 
He afterwards allows that in particular circumstances, as in 
sleep, in fever, or in madness, our ideas may approach in 
vividness to our sensations. 

Another distinction between the Sensation and the Idea, is 
of the most vital importance. To the Sensation belongs Ob- 
jective Reality; the Idea is purely Subjective. This distinc- 
tion lies at the root of the question of an External World ; but 
on every view of that question, objectivity is connected with 
the Sensation ; in contrast to which the Idea is an element 
exclusively mental or subjective. 

Meanings of Sensation. — The word Sensation has several 
meanings, not always clearly distinguished, and causing serious 
embroilments in philosophical controversy. 

1. There being, in Sensation, the concurrence of a series of 
physical or physiological facts with a mental fact, the name 
may be inadvertently employed to express the physical, as well 

VOL. I. F 



66 IDEAS. [chap. II. 

as the mental element, or at all events to include the physical 
part as well as the mental. 

The change made on the retina by light, and the nervons 
influences traversing the brain, may very readily be considered 
as entering into the phenomenon of sensation. This, however, 
is an impropriety. The proper use of " Sensation " is to sig- 
nify the mental fact^ to the exclusion of all the physical pro- 
cesses essential to its production. 

2. In ordinary Sensation, as in looking round a room, there 
is a double consciousness, — objective and subjective. In the 
objective consciousness, we are affected with the qualities 
named magnitude, distance, form, colour^ &c. ; these are called 
object properties, properties of the external and extended uni- 
verse. In the subject consciousness, we are alive to states of 
pleasure or of pain, which may go along with the other. We 
do not usually exist in both modes at one instant ; we pass out 
of one into the other. Now the word Sensation covers both, 
although, to the object consciousness, " Perception " is more 
strictly applicable ; and in contrast to Perception, Sensation 
would mean the subjective consciousness, the moments when 
we relapse from the object attitude and become subjective or 
self-conscious, or alive to pleasure and pain. When the mind 
is in the object phase, it is neutral or indifferent as respects 
enjoyment. 

8. In Sensation, a distinction may be drawn between the 
present effect upon the mind, or the impression that would arise 
if the outward agent had operated for the first time, and the 
total of the past impressions of the same agent, which by its 
repetition are recalled to fuse with the present effect. The 
present view of the moon reinstates the sum total of the pre- 
vious views held by memory, and is not what we should ex- 
perience if we saw the moon for the first time. Now, if the 
recall of the previous impressions, or of the joint and iterated 
idea, be considered an addition made by the Intellect, being 
dependent on the retentive power of the mind. Sensation, as 
opposed to Intellect, would mean the force of the present im- 
pression and nothing more ; or the difference between the 



CHAP. It.] IDEA8. 67 

vividness of reality, and the inferior vividness of recollection. 
What we can retain when we shut our eyes would represent 
the force of our intelligence ; the additional intensity when we 
resume our gaze, would represent the power of sensation or 
the actual experience. 

This distinction suggests an important remark as to the 
whole nature of Sensation, namely, that there can hardly he 
such a thing as pure Sensation, meaning Sensation without 
any admixture of the Intellect We may attribute this purity 
to the earliest impressions made upon the mind, but not to 
anything known in the experience of the adult This mixture 
of Intellect with Sense is not confined to Retentiveness ; the 
other intellectual functions, Discrimination and perception of 
Agreement, are inseparable from the exercise of the senses. 
We cannot have a sensation without a feeling of difference ; 
warmth is a transition from cold, and a conscious discrimination 
of the two facts. So, whenever we repeat a sensation, we have 
the consciousness of the repetition, or agreement. Were not 
these modes of consciousness present, we should have no sen- 
sation, indeed no consciousness. There is thus no hard line 
between sense and intellect. The question as to the origin of 
our Ideas in Sense is not a real question, until we explain what 
we mean by Sense, and make allowance for this unavoidable 
participation of Intellect in sensation. 

4. Sensation is commonly used to imply the whole of our 
primary feelings and susceptibilities, as opposed to the Emo- 
tions which are secondary or derived. It thus confounds 
together two different sides of our susceptibility, the active and 
the passive ; the feelings arising in connection with our exer- 
tion of inward force or energy, and those arising under impres- 
sions from external things. Both are primary states of 
consciousness ; they are alike dependent on modifications of 
our sensitive tissues. But, between the two, there is a contrast, 
wide, deep, and fundamental, completely missed by the older 
Psychologists, to the detriment of their handling of such vital 
questions as the origin of knowledge, and the perception of a 
material world. The name Sensation, pointing immediately to 

F 2 



68 IDEAS. [chap. ti. 

the operation of the five senses, gave the slip to the feelings* of 
energy, or brought them in partially and inadequately. Yet it 
is the only name we have for the primary susceptibilities of 
the organism — including both movement and passive senai- 
bility.— B. 

^ A question which, as far as I know, has been passed over 
by psychologists, but which ought not to be left unanswered, is 
this : Can we have ideas of ideas ? We have sensations, and 
we have copies of these sensations, called ideas of them : can 
we also have copies of these copies, constituting a second order 
of ideas, two removes instead of one from sensation ? 

Every one will admit that we can think of a thought. We 
remember ourselves remembering, or imagine ourselves remem- 
bering, an object or an event, just as we remember or imagine 
ourselves seeing one. But in the case of a simple idea of sen* 
sation, i.e. the idea or remembrance of a single undivided 
sensation, there seems nothing to distinguish the idea of the 
idea, from the idea of the sensation itself. When I imagine 
myself thinking of the colour of snow, I am not aware of any 
difference, even in degree of intensity, between the image then 
present to my mind of the white colour, and the image present 
when I imagine myself to be seeing the colour. 

The case, however, is somewhat different with those com* 
binations of simple ideas which have never been presented to 
my mind otherwise than as ideas. I have an idea of Pericles ; 
but it is derived only from the testimony of history : the real 
Pericles never was present to my senses. I have au idea of 
Hamlet, and of Falstaff ; combinations which, though made up 
of ideas of sensation, never existed at all in the world of sense ; 
they never were anything more than ideas in any mind. Yet> 
having had these combinations of ideas presented to me 
through the words of Shakespeare, I have formed what is 
properly an idea not of an outward object, but of an idea in 
Shakespeare's mind ; and I may communicate my idea to 
others, whose idea will then be an idea of an idea in my mind. 
My idea of Pericles, or my idea of any person now alive whom I 
have never seen, differs from these in the circumstance that I 



CHAP. II.] IDEAS. 69 

am persuaded that a real object corresponding to the idea does 
now, or did once, exist in the world of sensation : but as I did 
not derive my idea from the object, but from some other 
person's words, my idea is not a copy of the original, but a 
copy (more or less imperfect) of some other person's copy : it is 
an idea of an idea. 

Although, however, the complex idea I have of an object 
which never was presented to my senses, is rightly described as 
an idea of an idea ; my remembrance of a complex idea which 
I have had before, does not seem to me to differ from the re- 
membered idea as an idea differs from a sensation. There is 
a distinction between my visual idea of Mont Blanc and the 
actual sight of the mountain, which I do not find between my 
remembrance of Falstaff and the original impression from which 
it was derived. My present thought of Falstaff seems to me 
not a copy but a repetition of the original idea ; a repetition 
which may be dimmed by distance, or which may, on the con- 
trary, be heightened by intermediate processes of thought ; may 
have lost some of its features by lapse of time, and may have 
acquired others by reference to the original sources ; but which 
resembles the first impression not as the thought of an object 
resembles the sight of it, but as a second or third sight of an 
object resembles the first This question will meet us again in 
the psychological examination of Memory, the theory of which 
is in no small degree dependent upon it. — EcL 



70 THE ASSOCIATION OF IDEAS. [CHAP. in. 



CHAPTER III. 




THE ASSOCIATION OF IDEAS. 

** To have a clear view of the phenomena of the mind, as mere 
afiections or states of it, existing successivelj, and in a certain 
series, which we are able, therefore, to predict, in consequence of 
our knowledge of the past, is, I conceive, to have made the moat 
important acquisition which the intellectual inquirer can make." 

Brown^ Lectures^ i. 5M. 

Thought succeeds thought; idea follows idea, in- 
cessantly. If our senses arc awake, we are continually 
receiving sensations, of the eye, the ear, the touch, 
and so forth ; hut not sensations alone. After sensa- 
tions, ideas are perpetually excited of sensations 
formerly received ; after those ideas, other ideas : and 
during the whole of our lives, a series of those two 
states of consciousness, called sensations, and ideas, is 
constantly going on. I see a horse : that is a sensa- 
tion. Immediately I think of his master : that is an 
idea. The idea of his master makes me think of his 
office ; he is a minister of state : that is another idea. 
The idea of a minister of state makes me think of 
public affairs ; and I am led into a train of political 
ideas ; when I am summoned to dinner. This is a 
new sensation, followed by the idea of dinner, and of 
the company with whom I am to partake it. The 
ight of the company and of the food are other sen- 



CHAP. III.] THE ASSOCIATION OF IDEAS. 71 

sations ; these suggest ideas without end ; other sen- 
sations perpetually intervene, suggesting other ideas : 
and so the process goes on. 

In contemplating this train of feelings, of which 
our lives consist, it first of all strikes the contem- 
plator, as of importance to ascertain, whether they 
occur casually and irregularly, or according to a cer- 
tain order. 

With respect to the sensations, it is obvious enough 
that they occur, according to the order established 
among what we call the objects of nature, whatever 
those objects are ; to ascertain more and more of 
which order is the business of physical philosophy in 
all its branches. 

Of the order established among the objects of nature, 
by which we mean the objects of our senses, two re- 
markable cases are all which here we are called upon 
to notice ; the synchronous order, and the suc- 
cessive ORDER. The synchronous order, or order of 
simultaneous existence, is the order in space ; the suc- 
cessive order, or order of antecedent and consequent 
existence, is the order in time. Thus the various ob- 
jects in my room, the chairs, the tables, the books, 
have the synchronous order, or order in space. The 
falling of the spark, and the explosion of the gun- 
powder, have the successive order, or order in time. 

According to this order, in the objects of sense, 
there is a synchronous, and a successive, order of our 
sensations. I have synchronically, or at the same 
instant, the sight of a great variety of objects ; touch 
of all the objects with which my body is in contact ; 
hearing of all the sounds which are reaching my ears ; 
smelling of all the smells which are reaching my 



72 THE ASSOCIATION OP IDEAS. [cHAF. III. 

nostrils; taste of. the apple which I am eating; the 
sensation of resistance both from the apple which is 
m my mouth, and the ground on which I stand ; 
with the sensation of motion from the act of walking. 
I have SUCCESSIVELY the sight of the flash from the 
mortar fired at a distance, the hearing of the report^ 
the sight of the bomb, and of its motion in the air, 
the sight of its fall, the sight and hearing of its ex- 
plosion, and lastly, the sight of all the effects of that 
explosion." 

'^ There is here raised the interesting and important ques- 
tion, how far are we able to entertain synchronous sensations ; 
in other words, whether or not we can be cognisant of a 
plurality of sensations at the same instant of time. There 
are various circumstances tending to obscure this point ; the 
chief being the extreme rapidity of our mental transitions. 

It is requisite to view the question from two sides, the side 
of sensation and the side of action. On the first, the appear- 
ances are more in favour of plurality ; on the second, more in 
favour of unity. 

As regards Sensation, we are incessantly solicited by a 
variety of agencies, outward and inward. We may be roused 
into consciousness, through the eye, through the ear, through 
the touch, through the taste, through the smell, through the 
organic sensibilities : and all this at the same time with the rise 
of emotions or ideas through purely mental causes. Nay more ; 
even und^r a single sense, we may have a plurality of dis- 
tinguishable impressions. Sight is the greatest example. 
Hearing is little inferior ; witness the complexity of a band of 
music, and the tumult of a stormy sea. In Touch, likewise 
we may have a plurality of distinguishable feelings of contact 
over the body. 

The point to be considered, then, is, how many of these 
multitudinous effects, strictly synchronous in their occurrence, 
are capable of operating synchronously, either in directing 




CHAP. III.] THE ASSOCIATION OF IDEAS. 78 

Among the objects which I have thus observed 
synchronically, or successively ; that is, from which I 

the thoughts, or in impressing the memory. How many of 
them are able to work the smallest assignable change upon the 
consciousness ? To all appearance, more than one at a time. 

Consider first the two senses most concerned in developing 
(out of muscular feeling as the basis) the notion of Space 
or Extension ; that is, Touch and Sight. It will be enough 
to comment upon Sight The eye, as is known, takes in a 
wide prospect ; the retinas of the two eyes combined can em- 
brace a large fraction of the surrounding visible sphere. Now, 
the attention at any one moment is confined to a limited 
portion : the precise limits are not here considered ; there 
being a complication of action with sensation proper, which 
will be adverted to afterwards. But, notwithstanding this 
confinement of the attention, there is a consciousness of the 
whole visible expanse ; as is proved in the case of any sudden 
change at any part ; the attention is then instantly diverted to 
that part. We might say that there is, at every moment, a 
ramified area of sensibility, at its maximum in the centre — the 
line of direction of the eyes, and decreasing to the extremity 
or circumference of the visible expanse. To one gazing at 
the heavens, the flash of a meteor would be felt throughout 
the whole area of visibility ; while it would be more certain in 
its efiect, the nearer it was to the line of perfect vision, which 
is the place of special attention. A faint corruscation arising 
near the circumference might pass unheeded. 

Next as to the sense of Hearing. Peculiar difficulties 
attend the explanation of this sense. There is only one main 
line of access to the inner ear, where the nerves are distributed, 
namely, the solid chain of bones of the middle ear ; and that 
line can hardly be supposed capable of conveying at the same 
instant a plurality of difierehTseries of vibrations. Yet we 
fancy that we hear a concurring plurality of sounds. Of 
what avail would be a band of a hundred performers if there 
were no power of taking in simultaneous pulaes of sound ? 




74 THE ASSOCIATION OF IDEAS. [cHAP. III. 

have had synchronical or successive sensations ; there 
are some which I have so observed frequently ; others 

There is, however, an abseDce of accurate inyestigation of this 
point ; no one has endeayoured to ascertain how much of the 
compleK effect is due to the rapid transitions of the ear from 
one sound to another, how much to the concurrence of several 
series of pulses in one augmented series, and how much to the 
composition of successive effects in the ear into a synchronous 
whole in the emotional wave, or general excitement of the 
brain. It will be found, by any careful observer, that in 
listening to a band, we are really occupied with very few of 
the sounds at the same instant of time ; we perform a number 
of rapid movements of the attention from one to another; 
while, at each moment, we are under an influence remaining 
from the recently occurring beats, to which we are not now 
giving our full attention. 

Touch is exactly parallel to Sight, and need not be dwelt 
upon. In Smell, and in Taste, we may have a plurality of 
distinguishable effects at one moment : we often experience 
complex odours and tastes. The above remarks will apply to 
these. The undoubted tendency of the mind is to single out, 
for attention, the separate constituents by turns, and to pass 
with rapidity from one to another ; while it is also true that 
the individual effects that are for the moment seemingly 
neglected, still exercise an influence on the consciousness ; 
which would be decisively shown (as in the case of sight) on 
any occasion of their suddenly increasing in force, or suddenly 
vanishing. Also, in their state of having fallen out of atten- 
tion, they still leave an influence to modify the present sensa- 
tion, the effect of their being attended to in the previous in- 
stant. Until we can measure the rapidity of those transitions 
of the attention, we are not in a position to affirm absolutely 
the power of double, triple, or multiple attention, although to 
all practical intents such a power is possessed. 

i is certain that the mind is every moment actuated and 
ined by a plurality of influences, impressions, consider- 



CHAP. III.] THE ASSOCIATION OF IDEAS. 75 

which I have so observed not frequently: in other 
words, of my sensations some have been frequently 

ations, thoughts. Almost every act of the will is a resultant 
of many motives. Our thoughts seldom spring up at the 
instance of a simple link of association ; although it may 
happen that some one link is sufficing and overpowering, and 
therefore governs the recall ; yet there are almost always others 
aiding or checking the particular resuscitation. Nevertheless, 
such complication of antecedents is not inconsistent with the 
theory of very rapid transitions of attention, there being a 
certain persisting influence from each separate act. There 
would, however, be a greater theoretical simplicity, as well as 
a less appearance of straining a point, if we could suppose 
that the several conspiring agencies unite in a strictly syn- 
chronous whole. 

Let us next view the question &om the side of Activity. 
Here the circumstance that would most decisively limit the 
power of attention, and impose an absolute unity (qualified by 
rapidity of transition) is the singleness of the muscular execu- 
tive. No one organ can perform two movements at the same 
instant. Plurality can arise only by the separate organs per- 
forming separate actions. 

In such a case as playing on the pianoforte, there is a very 
complicated series of muscular exertions. The eyes are occu- 
pied with the printed music; both hands are exerted, and 
every finger performs a separate note ; the foot also may be 
brought into action. At the same time, the ear has to be on 
the alert. The plurality is here very great ; yet it seems much 
greater than it is. For, at the stage when such a performance 
is possible, there is a great amount of acquirement ; many 
synchronous groupings have been made by long repetition, so 
as to dispense with attending to the several acts in separation. 
The real attention is concentrated on one, or on a very few 
acts ; so few that it is not impossible for them to be com- 
manded by the mere rapidity of transition from one to another. 
The performer need not attend to the notes of the music, and 



76 THE ASSOCIATION OP IDEAS. [cHAP. III. 

synchronical, others not frequently ; some frequently 
successive, others not frequently. Thus, my sight of 

to tho action of the fingers at the same absolute instant of 
time. 

It is in the ease of commencing some act entirely new to 
us, that the limitation of the muscular executive is most ap- 
parent. In learning the first elements of any accomplishment 
by imitating a master, the whole attention is concentrated on 
single movements; at one instant on the master, and the 
next instant on the act of imitating ; the only synchronous 
addition to this last being the remaining trace of the impres- 
sion of the model. If the act is complicated, and requires 
concurring movements of different organs, the attention, at 
the outset, must be given to one at a time ; the conjunction of 
independent movements is not a primitive, but an acquired 
power. Previous to acquired groupings, the restriction of the 
attention to one movement is the rule. 

Let us now consider the senses as compounded of passive 
sensation and movement. The eye, for example, is a moving 
organ under the command of the will ; both eyes being moved 
in one indivisible volition. Visual attention consists some- 
times in moving the eyes to and fro, at other times, in fixing 
them in one immoveable attitude. We have seen that so far 
as the optical sensibility is concerned, there is at each instant 
an effective impression of a wide area, although of very 
unequal distinctness. The impressions derived from the 
movements of the eye are much more limited. At the same 
absolute instant of time, we can scan only a very small por« 
tion; say the outline of some isolated form, or the trace of an 
isolated movement. We can run rapidly round the circum- 
ference of a round body, or along the edge of a cubical block. 
In looking at a tree, we perform a scries of muscular sweeps, 
scarcely including, at one time, more than a single outline 
course. No doubt our optical sensibility is receiving, in a 
faint way, a complicated superficies ; yet the ocular sweep, on 
which we depend for our ideas of form, can hardly be supposed 



CHAP. III.] THE ASSOCIATION OF IDEAS. 77 

roast beef, and my taste of roast beef, have been fre- 
quently SYNCHEONiCAL ; my smell of a rose, and my 
sight and touch of a rose, have been frequently syn- 
chronical ; my sight of a stone, and my sensations of 
its hardness, and weight, have been frequently syn- 
chronical. Others of my sensations have not been 
frequently sjrnchronical : my sight of a lion, and the 
hearing of his roar ; my sight of a knife, and its 
stabbing a man. My sight of the flash of lightning, 
and my hearing of the thunder, have been often suc- 
cessive ; the pain of cold, and the pleasure of heat, 
have been often successive ; the sight of a trumpet, 
and the sound of a trumpet, have been often succes- 
sive. On the other hand, my sight of hemlock, and 
my taste of hemlock, have not been ofben successive : 
and so on. 

It so happens, that, of the objects from which we 
derive the greatest part of our sensations, most of 
those which are observed synchronically, are fr equently 
observed synchronically ; most of those which are 
observed successively, are frequently observed succes- 
sively. In other word?, most of our synchronical 
sensations, have been frequently sjrnchronical ; most 
of our successive sensations, have been f requently 
successive. Thus, most of our synchronical sensa- 
tions are derived from the objects around us, the ob- 
jects which we have the most frequent occasion to 
hear and see ; the members of our family ; the furni- 
ture of our houses ; our food ; the instruments of 

to take more than one line at the same instant. The rapidity 
of transition is very great ; but there is a conscious transition 
when we wish to com'bine the impression of a circle inscribed 
in a square. — B, 



78 THE ASSOCIATION OF IDEAS. [CHAP. III. 

our occupations or amusements. In like manner, of 
those sensations which we have had in succession, we 
have had the greatest number repeatedly in succession ; 
the sight of fire, and its warmth ; the touch of snow, 
and its cold ; the sight of food, and its taste. 

Thus much with regard to the order of sensations ; 
next with regard to the order of ideas. 

As ideas are not derived firom objects, we should 
not expect their order to be derived from the order of 
objects ; but as they are derived from sensations, we 
might by analogy expect, that they would derive their 
order from that of the sensations ; and this to a great 
extent is the case. 

Our ideas spring up, or exist, in the order in 
which the sensations existed, of which they are the 
copies. 

This is the general law of the " Association of 
Ideas" ; by whicTi term, let it be remembered, nothing 
is here meant to be expressed, but the order of occur- 
rence. 

In this law, the following things are to be carefrdly 
observed. 

1. Of those sensations which occurred sjmchro- 
nically, the ideas also spring up synchronically. I 
have seen a violin, and heard the tones of the violin, 
synchronically. If I think of the tones of the violin, 
the visible appearance of the violin at the same time 
occurs to me. I have seen the sun, and the sky in 
which it is placed, synchronically. If I think of the 
one, I think of the other at the same time. 

One of the cases of synchronical sensation, which 
deserves the most particular attention, is, that of the 
several sensations derived from one and the same ob- 



CHAP. III.] THE ASSOCIATION OF IDEAS. 79 

ject ; a stone, for example, a flower, a table, a chair, a 
horse, a man. 

From a stone I have had, sjmchronically, the sen- 
sation of colour, the sensation of hardness, the 
sensations of shape, and size, the sensation of weight. 
When the idea of one of these sensations occurs, the 
ideas of all of them occur." They exist in my mind 
synchronically ; and their synchronical existence is 
called the idea of the stone ; which, it is thus plain, 
is not a single idea, but a number of ideas in a par- 
ticular state of combination. 

Thus, again, I have smelt a rose, and looked at, 
and handled a rose, synchronically ; accordingly the 
name rose suggests to me all those ideas synchronically; 
and this combination of those simple ideas is called 
my idea of the rose. 

My idea of an animal is still more complex. The 



^ This must be qualified by the fact that the same individual 
sensation may be found in many groupings, and therefore may 
not bring up any one aggregate or concrete object in particular. 
The colour^ white, is seen in conjunction with many different 
shapes, magnitudes, and weight; consequently it does not 
suggest a specific shape or magnitude. In such a case, the 
recall may be very various according to circumstances ; some 
individual may have a greater prominence than the rest, and 
be singled out on that ground ; two or three may be brought 
to view ; or a still greater number may be revived. 

This is an important limitation of the working of the asso- 
ciating principle. An individual thing is not restored, as a 
matter of course, unless the link of connexion points to it alone ; 
as is often effected by a plurality of bonds. Thus a musical 
air is not suggested until as many notes are heard as to dis- 
tinguish it from every other known air, — B. 



80 THE ASSOCIATION OF IDEAS. [CHAP. III. 

word thrush, for example, not only suggests an idea 
of a particular colour and shape, and size, but of song, 
and flight, and nestling, and eggs, and callow young, 
and others. 

My idea of a man is the most complex of all ; in- 
cluding not only colour, and shape, and voice, but the 
whole class of events in which I have observed him 
either the agent or the patient. 

2. As the ideas of the sensations which occurred 
synchronically, rise synchronically, so the ideas of 
the sensations which occurred successively, rise suc- 
cessively. 

Of this important case of association, or of the 
successive order of our ideas, many remarkable in- 
stances might be adduced. Of these none seems 
better adapted to the learner than the repetition of 
any passage, or words ; the Lord's Prayer, for ex- 
ample, committed to memory. In learning the 
passage, we repeat it ; that is, we pronounce the 
words, in successive order, from the beginning to the 
end. The order of the sensations is successive. 
When we proceed to repeat the passage, the ideas of 
the words also rise in succession, the preceding always 
suggesting the succeeding, and no other. Our sug- 
gests Father^ Father suggests which, which su^ests 
art; and so on, to the end. How remarkably this is 
the case, any one may convince himself, by trying to 
repeat backwards, even a passage with which he is as 
famiUar as the Lord's Prayer. The case is the same 
with numbers. A man can go on with the numbers 
in the progressive order, one, two, three, &c. scarcely 
thinking of his act ; and though it is possible for him 
to repeat them backward, because he is accustomed 



CHAP. III.] THE ASSOCIATION OP IDEAS. 81 

to subtraction of numbers, he cannot do so without 
an effort. 

Of witnesses in. courts of justice it has been re- 
marked, that eye-witnesses, and ear-witnesses, always 
tell their story in the chronological order ; in other 
words, the ideas occur to them in the order in which 
the sensations occurred ; on the other hand, that 
witnesses, who are inventing, rarely adhere to the 
chronological order. 

3. A far greater number of our sensations are re- 
ceived in the successive, than in the synchronical order. 
Of our ideas, also, the number is infinitely greater that 
rise in the successive than the synchronical order. 

4. In the successive order of ideas, that which 
precedes, is sometimes called the suggesting, that 
which succeeds, the suggested idea ; not that any power 
is supposed to reside in the antecedent over the conse- 
quent ; suggesting, and suggested, mean only antece- 
dent and consequent, with the additional idea, that such 
order is not casual, but, to a certain degree, permanent. 

5. Of the antecedent and consequent feelings, or 
the suggesting, and suggested ; the antecedent may be 
either sensations or ideas ; the consequent are always 
ideas. An idea may be excited either by a sensation 
or an idea. The sight of the dog of my friend is a 
sensation, and it excites the idea of my friend. The 
idea of Professor Dugald Stewart delivering a lecture, 
recals the idea of the delight with which I heard him ; 
that, the idea of the studies in which it engaged me ; 
that, the trains of thought which succeeded ; and each 
epoch of my mental history, the succeeding one, till 
the present moment ; in which I am endeavouring to 
present to others what appears to me valuable among 

VOL. I. G 



82 THE ASSOCIATION OF IDEAS. [cHAP. III. 

the innumerable ideas of which this lengthened train 
has been composed. 

6. As there are degrees in sensations, and degrees 
in ideas ; for one sensation is more vivid than another 
sensation, one idea more vivid than another idea ; so 
there are degrees in association. One association, we 
say, is stronger than another : First, when it is more 
permanent than another : Secondly, when it is per- 
formed with more certainty : Thirdly, when it is per- 
formed with more facility. 

It is well known, that some associations are very 
transient, others very permanent. The case which we 
formerly mentioned, that of repeating words com- 
mitted to memory, affords an apt illustration. In 
some cases, we can perform the repetition, when a few 
hours, or a few days have elapsed; but not after a longer 
period. In others, we can perform it after the lapse 
of many years. There are few children in whose 
minds some association has not been formed between 
darkness and ghosts. In some this association is soon 
dissolved ; in some it continues for life.-' 

In some cases the association takes place with less, 
in some with greater certainty. Thus, in repeating 
words, I am not sure that I shall not commit mis- 
takes, if they are imperfectly got ; and I may at one 

^ The diflFerence betwecD transient and permanent recollec- 
tions turns entirely upon the strength of the association. 
There is not one specific mode of association suited to tem- 
porary recollection and another to permanent ; the permanent 
contains the temporary, as the greater does the less. The 
reason why a feebler association will sufiice for temporary 
purposes, is that a recent impression still retains something of 
the hold of a present reality. The chords struck during the 



CHAP. III.] THE ASSOCIATION OP IDEAS. S3 

trial repeat them right, at another wrong : I am sure 
of always repeating those correctly, which I have got 
perfectly. Thus, in my native language, the associa- 
tion between the name and the thing is certain ; in a 
language with which I am imperfectly acquainted, 
not certain. In expressing myself in my own lan- 
guage, the idea of the thing suggests the idea of the 
name with certainty. In speaking a language with 
which I am imperfectly acquainted, the idea of the 
thing does not with certainty suggest the idea of the 
name ; at one time it may, at another not. 

That ideas are associated in some cases with more, 
in some with less facility, is strikingly illustrated by 
the same instance, of a language with which we are 
well, and a language with which we are imperfectly, 
acquainted. In speaking our own language, we are 
not conscious of any eflfort ; the associations between 
the words and the ideas appear spontaneous. In 
endeavouring to speak a language with which we are 
imperfectly acquainted, we are sensible of a painful 
eflFort : the associations between the words and ideas 
being not ready, or immediate. 

7. The causes of strength in association seem all to 
be resolvable into two ; the vividness of the associated 
feelings ; and the frequency of the association. 

In general, we convey not a very precise meaning, 

actual presence have not ceased to vibrate. It is difficult to 
estimate with precision the influence of recency ; we know it 
to be very considerable. A thing distinctly remembered for a few 
hours will be forgotten, or else held as a mere fragment, at the 
end of a month ; while anything that persists for two or three 
months may be considered as independent of the power of 
recency, and may last for years. — B, 

Q 2 



84 THE ASSOCIATION OF IDEAS. [cHAP. III. 

when we speak of the vividness of sensations and ideas. 
We may he understood when we say that, generally 
speaking, the sensation is more vivid than the idea ; 
or the primary, than the secondary feeling ; though in 
dreams, and in delirium, ideas are mistaken for sensa- 
tions. But when we say that one sensation is more 
vivid than another, there is much more uncertainty. 
We can distinguish those sensations which are pleasu- 
rable, and those which are painful, from such as are not 
so ; and when we call the pleasurable and painful more 
vivid, than those which are not so, we speak intelli- 
gibly. We can also distinguish degrees of pleasure, 
and of pain ; and when we call the sensation of the 
higher degree more vivid than the sensation of the 
lower degree, we may again be considered as express- 
ing a meaning tolerably precise. 

In calling one idea more vivid than another, if we 
confine the appellation to the ideas of such sensations 
as may with precision be called more or less vivid ; 
the sensations of pleasure and pain, in their various 
degrees, compared with sensations which we do not 
call either pleasurable or painful ; our language will 
still have a certain degree of precision. But what is 
the meaning which I annex to ray words, when I say, 
that my idea of the taste of the pine-apple which I 
tasted yesterday is vivid ; my idea of the taste of the 
foreign fruit which I never tasted but once in early 
life, is not vivid ? If I mean that I can more certainly 
distinguish the more recent, than the more distant 
sensation, there is still some precision in my language ; 
because it seems true of all my senses, that if I com- 
pare a distant sensation with a present, I am less sure 
of its being or not being a repetition of the same, than 



CHAP. III.] THE ASSOCIATION OF IDEAS. 85 

if I compare a recent sensation with a present one. 
Thus, if I yesterday had a smell of a very peculiar 
kind, and compare it with a present smell, I can j udge 
more accurately of the agreement or disagreement of 
the two sensations, than if I compared the present 
with one much more remote. The same is the case 
with colours, with sounds, with feelings of touch, and 
of resistance. It is therefore sufficiently certain, that 
the idea of the more recent sensation affords the means 
of a more accurate comparison, generally, than the 
idea of the more remote sensation. And thus we 
have three cases of vividness, of which we can speak 
with some precision : the case of sensations, as com- 
pared with ideas ; the case of pleasurable and painful 
sensations, and their ideas, as compared with those 
which are not pleasurable or painful ; and the case 
of the more recent, compared with the more remote.^ 



^ If it be admitted that in the three cases here specified the 
word vividness, as applied to our impressions, has a definite 
meaning, it seems to follow that this meaning may be extended 
in the way of analogy, to other cases than these. There are, 
for example, sensations which differ from some other sensations 
like fainter feelings of the same kind, in much the same manner 
as the idea of a sensation difiers from the sensation itself : and 
we may, by extension, call these sensations less vivid. Again, 
one idea may differ from another idea in the same sort of way in 
which the idea of a sensation had long ago differs from that of 
a similar sensation received recently : that is, it is a more faded 
copy — its colours and its outlines are more effaced : this idea 
may fairly be said to be less vivid than the other. 

The author himself, a few pages farther on, speaks of 
some complex ideas as being more "obscure" tlian others, 
merely on account of their greater complexity. Obscurity, 



86 THE ASSOCIATION OF IDEAS. [cHAP. III. 

That the association of two ideas, but for once, 
does, in some cases, give tliem a very strong con- 
nection, is within the sphere of every man's experience: 
The most remarkable cases are probably those of pain 
and pleasure. Some persons who have experienced a 
very painful surgical operation, can never afterwards 
bear the sight of the operator, howeyer strong the 

indeed, in this case, means a different quality from the absence 
of vividness, but a quality fully as indefinite. 

Mr. Bain, whose view of the subject will be found further 
on, draws a fundamental distinction (already indicated in a 
former note) between the attributes which belong to a sensation 
regarded in an intellectual point of view, as a portion of our 
knowledge, and those which belong to the element of Feeh'ng 
contained in it; Feeling being here taken in the narrower 
acceptation of the word, that in which Feeling is opposed to 
Intellect or Thought. To sensations in tlieir intellectual 
aspect Mr. Bain considers the term vividness to be inapplicable: 
they* can only be distinct or indistinct. He reserves the word 
vividness to express the degree of intensity of the sensation, 
considered in what may be called its emotional aspect, whether 
of pleasure, of pain, or of mere excitement. 

Whether we accept this restriction or not, it is in any case 
certain, that the property of producing a strong and durable 
association without the aid of repetition, belongs principally 
to our pleasures and pains. The more intense the pain or 
pleasure, the more promptly and powerfully does it associate 
itself with its accompanying circumstances, even with those 
which are only accidentally present. In the cases mentioned 
in the text, a single occurrence of the painful sensation is 
sufficient to produce an association^ which neither time can 
wear out nor counter* associations dissolve, between the idea of 
the pain and the ideas of the sensations which casually accom- 
panied it in that one instance, however intrinsically indifferent 
these may be. — Ed. 



CHAP. III.] THE ASSOCIATION OP IDEAS. 87 

gratitude which they may actually feel towards him. 
The meaning is, that the sight of the operator, by a 
strong association, calls up so vividly the idea of the 
pain of the operation, that it is itself a pain. The 
spot on which a tender maiden parted with her lover, 
when he embarked on the voyage from which he never 
returned, cannot afterwards be seen by her without an 
agony of grief. 

These cases, also, furnish an apt illustration of the 
superiority which the sensation possesses over the 
idea, as an associating cause. Though the sight of 
the surgeon, the sight of the place, would awaken the 
ideas which we have described, the mere thought of 
them might be attended with no peculiar effect. 
Those persons who have the association of frightful 
objects with darkness, and who are transported with 
terrors when placed in the dark, can still think of 
darkness without any emotion. 

The> same cases furnish an illustration of the effect 
of recency on the strength of association. The sight, 
of the affecting spot by the maiden, of the surgeon by 
the patient, would certainly produce a more intense 
emotion, after a short, than after a long interval. 
With most persons, time would weaken, and at last 
dissolve, the association. 

So much with regard to vividness, as a cause of 
strong associations. Next, we have to consider 
frequency or repetition ; which is the most remarkable 
and important cause of the strength of our associations. 

Of any two sensations, frequently perceived to- 
gether, the ideas are associated. Thus, at least, in the 
minds of Englishmen, the idea of a soldier, and the 
idea of a red coat are associated ; the idea of a clergy- 



88 THE ASSOCIATION OF IDEAS. [cHAP. IIL 

man, and the idea of a black coat ; the idea of a 
quaker, and of a broad-brimmed hat ; the idea of a 
woman and tlie idea of petticoats. A peculiar taste 
suggests the idea of an apple ; a peculiar smell the 
idea of a rose. If I have heard a particular air 
frequently sung by a particular person, the hearing of 
the air suggests the idea of the person. 

The most remarkable exemplification of the effect of 
degrees of frequency, in producing degrees of strength 
in the associations, is to be found in the cases in 
which the association is purposely and studiously 
contracted ; the cases in which we learn something ; 
the use of words, for example. 

Every child learns the language which is spoken by 
those around him. He also learns it by degrees. He 
learns first the names of the most familiar objects ; and 
among familiar objects, the names of those which, he 
most frequently has occasion to name ; himself, his 
nurse, his food, his playthings. 

A sound heard once in conjunction with another 
sensation ; the word mamma, for example, with, the 
sight of a woman, would produce no greater effect on 
the child, than the conjunction of any other sensation, 
which once exists and is gone for ever. But if the 
word mamma is frequently pronounced, in conjunction 
with the sight of a particular woman, the sound will 
by degrees become associated with the sight ; and as 
the pronouncing of the name will call up the idea of 
the woman, so the sight of the woman will call up the 
idea of the name. 

The process becomes very perceptible to us, when, 
at years of reflection, we proceed to learn a dead or 
foreign language. At the first lesson, we are told, or 



CHAP. III.] THK ASSOCIATION OF IDEAS. 89 

we see in the dictionary, the meaning of perhaps 
twenty words. But it is not joining the word and its 
meaning once, that will make the word suggest its 
meaning to us another time. We repeat the two in 
conjunction, till we think the meaning so well asso- 
ciated with the word, that whenever the word occurs 
to us, the meaning will occur along with it. We are 
often deceived in this anticipation ; and finding that 
the meaning is not suggested by the word, we have to 
renew the process of repetition, and this, perhaps, 
again, and again. By force of repetition the meaning 
is associated, at la«t, with every word of the language, 
and so perfectly, that the one never occurs to us with- 
out the other. 

Learning to play on a musical instrument is another 
remarkable illustration of the effect of repetition in 
strengthening associations, in rendering those se- 
quences, which, at first, are slow, and difficult, after- 
wards, rapid, and easy. At first, the learner, after 
thinking of each successive note, as it stands in his 
book, has each time to look out with care for the key or 
the string which he is to touch, and the finger he is to 
touch it with, and is every moment committing 
mistakes. Eepetition is well known to be the only 
means of overcoming these difficulties. As the repe- 
tition goes on, the sight of the note, or even the idea 
of the note, becomes associated with the place of the 
key or the string ; and that of the key or the string 
with the proper finger. The association for a time is 
imperfect, but at last becomes so strong, that it is per- 
formed with the greatest rapidity, without an effort, 
and almost without consciousness. 

In few cases is the strength of association, derived 



90 THE ASSOCIATION OP IDEAS. [cHAP. in. 

from repetition, more worthy of attention, than in 
performing arithmetic. All men, whose practice is 
not great, find the addition of a long column of num- 
bers, tedious, and the accuracy of the operation, by no 
means certain. Till a man has had considerable prac- 
tice, there are few acts of the mind more toilsome. 
The reason is, that the names of the numbers, which 
correspond to the different steps, do not readily occur ; 
that is, are not strongly associated with the names 
which precede them. Thus, 7 added to 5, make 12 ; 
but the antecedent, 7 added to 5, is not strongly asso- 
ciated with the consequent 12, in the mind of the 
learner, and he has to wait and search till the name 
occurs. Thus, again, 12 and 7 make 19 ; 19 and 8 
make 27, and so on to any amount ; but if the practice 
of the performer has been small, the association in 
each instance is imperfect, and the process irksome 
and slow. Practice, however ; that is, frequency of 
repetition; makes the association between each of 
these antecedents and its proper consequent so perfect, 
that no sooner is the one conceived than the other is 
conceived, and an expert arithmetician can tell the 
amount of a long column of figures, with a rapidiiy, 
which seems almost miraculous to the man whose 
faculty of numeration is of the ordinary standard. 

8. Where two or more ideas have been often re- 
peated together, and the association has become very 
strong, they sometimes spring up in such close com- 
bination as not to be distinguishable. Some cases of 
sensation are analogous. For example; when a wheel, 
on the seven parts of which the seven prismatic 
colours are respectively painted, is made to revolve 
rapidly, it appears not of seven colours, but of one 



CHAP. III.] THE ASSOCIATION OP IDEAS. 91 

uniform colour, white. By the rapidity of the succes- 
sion, the several sensations cease to be distinguish- 
able ; they run, as it were, together, and a new sensa- 
tion, compounded of all the seven, but apparently a 
simple one, is the result. Ideas, also, which have 
been so often conjoined, that whenever one exists in 
the mind, the others immediately exist along with it, 
seem to run into one another, to coalesce, as it were, 
and out of many to form one idea ; which idea, how- 
ever in reality complex, appears to be no less simple, 
than any one of those of which it is compounded. 

The word gold, for example, or the word iron, ap- 
pears to express as simple an idea, as the word colour, 
or the word sound. Yet it is immediately seen, that 
the idea of each of those metals is made up of the 
separate ideas of several sensations ; colour, hardness, 
extension, weight. Those ideas, however, present 
themselves in such intimate union, that they are con- 
stantly spoken of as one, not many. We say, our 
idea of iron, our idea of gold ; and it is only with an 
effort that reflecting men perform the decomposition. 

The idea expressed by the term weight, appears so 
perfectly simple, that he is a good metaphysician, 
who can trace its composition. Yet it involves, of 
course, the idea of resistance, which we have shewn 
above to be compounded, and to involve the feeling 
attendant upon the contraction of muscles ; and the 
feeling, or feelings, denominated Will ; it involves the 
idea, not of resistance simply, but of resistance in a 
particular direction ; the idea of direction, therefore, is 
included in it, and in that are involved the ideas of 
extension, and of place and motion, some of the most 
compUcated phenomena of the human mind. 



92 THE ASSOCIATION OP IDEAS. [cHAP. III. 

The ideas of hardness and extension have been so 
uniformly regarded as simple, that the greatest meta- 
physicians have set them down as the copies of simple 
sensations of touch. Hartley and Darwin, were, I 
believe, the first who thought of assigning to them a 
different origin. 

We call a thing hard, because it resists compression, 
or separation of parts ; that is, because to compress it, 
or separate it into parts, what we call muscular force 
is required. The idea, then, of muscular action, and 
of all the feelings which go to it, are involved in the 
idea of hardness. 

The idea of extension is derived from the muscular 
feelings in what we caU the motion of parts of our 
own bodies ; as for example, the hands. I move my 
hand along a line ; I have certain sensations ; on 
account of these sensations, I call the line long, or 
extended. The idea of lines in the direction of length, 
breadth, and thickness, constitutes the general idea of 
extension. In the idea of extension, there are in- 
cluded three of the most complex of our ideas; 
motion ; time, which is included in motion ; and space, 
which is included in direction. We are not yet pre- 
pared to explain the simple ideas which compose the 
very complex ideas, of motion, space, and time ; it is 
enough at present to have shewn, that in the idea of 
extension, which appears so very simple, a great 
number of ideas are nevertheless included ; and that 
this is a case of that combination of ideas in the 
higher degrees of association, in which the simple 
ideas are so intimately blended, as to have the 
appearance, not of a complex, but of a simple idea. 

It is to this great law of association, that we trace 



CHAP. III.] THE ASSOCIATION OP IDEAS. 93 

the formation of our ideas of what we call external 
objects; that is, the ideas of a certain number of 
sensations, received together so frequently that they 
coalesce as it were, and are spoken of under the idea 
of unity. Hence, what we call the idea of a tree, the 
idea of a stone,the idea of a horse, the idea of a man. 

In using the names, tree, horse, man, the names of 
what I call objects, I am referring, and can be referring, 
only to my own sensations ; in fact, therefore, only 
naming a certain number of sensations, regarded as in 
a particular state of combination ; that is, concomi- 
tance. Particular sensations of sight, of touch, of 
the muscles, are the sensations, to the ideas of which, 
colour, extension, roughness, hardness, smoothness, 
taste, smell, so coalescing as to appear one idea, I 
give the name, idea of a tree. 

To this case of high association, this blending to- 
gether of many ideas, in so close a combination that 
they appear not many ideas, but one idea, we owe, as 
I shall afterwards more fully explain, the power of 
classification, and all the advantages of language. It 
is obviously, therefore, of the greatest moment, that 
this important phenomenon should be well under- 
stood. 

9. Some ideas are by frequency and strength of 
association so closely combined, that they cannot be 
separated. If one exists, the other exists along with 
it, in spite of whatever effort we make to disjoin 
them. 

For example ; it is not in our power to think of 
colour, without thinking of extension ; or of solidity, 
without figure. We have seen colour constantly in 
combination with extension, spread as it were, upon a 



94 THE ASSOCIATION OF IDEAS. [CHAF. III. 

surface. We have never seen it except in this connec- 
tion. Colour and extension have been invariably con- 
joined. The idea of colour, therefore, uniformly comes 
into the mind, bringing that of extension along with it ; 
and so close is the association, that it is not in our power 
to dissolve it. We cannot, if we will, think of colour, 
but in combination with extension. The one idea 
calls up the other, and retains it, so long as the other 
is retained. 

This great law of our nature is illustrated in a 
manner equally striking, by the connection between 
the ideas of solidity and figure. We never have the 
sensations from which the idea of solidity is derived, 
but in conjunction with the sensations whence the 
idea of figure is derived. If we handle any thing 
solid, it is always either round, square, or of some 
other form. The ideas correspond with the sensations. 
If the idea of solidity rises, that of figure rises along 
with it. The idea of figure which rises, is, of course, 
more obscure than that of extension ; because, figures 
being innumerable, the general idea is exceedingly 
complex, and hence, of necessity, obscure. But, such 
as it is, the idea of figure is always present when that 
of solidity is present; nor can we, by any effort, 
think of the one without thinking of the other at 
the same time. 

Of all the cases of this important law of association, 
there is none more extraordinary than what some 
philosophers have called, the acquired perceptions of 
sight. 

AVhen I lift my eyes from the paper on which I 
am writing, I see the chairs, and tables, and walls of 
my room, each of its proper shape, and at its proper 



CHAP. Til.] THE ASSOCIATION OF IDEAS. 95 

distance. I see, from my window, trees, and meadows, 
and horses, and oxen, and distant hills. I see each 
of its proper size, of its proper form, and at its proper 
distance ; and these particulars appear as immediate 
informations of the eye, as the colours which I see by 
means of it. 

Yet, philosophy has ascertained, that we derive 
nothing from the eve whatever, but sensations of 
colour ; that the idea of extension, in which size, and 
form, and distance are included, is derived from sen- .1 
sations, not in the eye, but in the muscular part of 
our frame. How, then, is it, that we receive accurate 
information, by the eye, of size, and shape, and dis- 
tance ? By association merely.* 

The colours upon a body are different, according to 
its figure, its distance, and its size. But the sensations 
of colour, and what we may here, for brevity, call the 
sensations of extension, of figure, of distance, have 
been so often united, felt in conjunction, that the 
sensation of the colour is never experienced without 
raising the ideas of the extension, the figure, the dis- 
tance, in such intimate union with it, that they not 
only cannot be separated, but are actually supposed to 
be seen. The sight, as it is called, of figure, or dis- 



*• We derive through the eye (1) sensations of light in its 
various degrees, and of colours and their shades ; (2) visible 
form and visible magnitude, together with their changes ; and 
also visible movements. The second group of feelings depends 
on the movements of the eyes ; and they are feelings of ac- 
tivity, or of muscular expenditure. We have, besides, a certain 
internal muscular sensibility to the alterations of the eye-ball 
in adjusting for distance. — B. 



96 THE ASSOCIATION OF IDEAS. [cHAP. IIL 

tance, appearing, as it does, a simple sensation, is in 
reality a complex state of consciousness ; a sequence, 
in which the antecedent, a sensation of colour, and 
the consequent, a number of ideas, are so closely com- 
bined by association, that they appear not one idea^ 
but one sensation. 

Some persons, by the folly of those about them, in 
early life, have formed associations between the sound 
of thunder, and danger to their lives, They are ac- 
cordingly in a state of agitation during a thunder 
storm. The sound of the thunder calls up the idea 
of danger, and no effort they can make, no reasoning 
they can use with themselves, to show how small the 
chance that they will be harmed, empowers them to 
dissolve the spell, to break the association, and deliver 
themselves from the tormenting idea, while the sensa- 
tion or the expectation of it remains. 

Another very familiar illustration may be adduced. 
Some persons have what is called an antipathy to a 
spider, a toad, or a rat. These feelings generally 
originate in some early fright. The idea of danger 
has been on some occasion so intensely excited along 
with the touch or sight of the animal, and hence the 
association so strongly formed, that it cannot be dis- 
solved. The sensation, in spite of them, excites 
the idea, and produces the uneasiness which the idea 
imports. 

The following of one idea after another idea, or 
after a sensation, so certainly that we cannot prevent 
the combination, nor avoid having the consequent feel- 
ing as often as we have the antecedent^ is a law of 
association, the operation of which we shall afterwards 
find to be extensive, and bearing a principal part in 



CHAP. III.] THE ASSOCIATION OF IDEAS. 97 

some of the most important phenomena of the human 
mind. 

As there are some ideas so intimately blended by 
association, that it is not in our power to separate 
them ; there seem to be others, which it is not in our 
power to combine. Dr. Brown, in exposing some 
errors of his predecessors, with respect to the acquired 
perceptions of sight, observes : " I cannot blend my 
notions of the two surfaces, a plane, and a convex, as 
one surface, both plane and convex, more than I can 
think of a whole which is less than a fraction of itself, 
or a square of which the sides are not equal." The 
case. here, appears to be. that a strong association ex- 
eludes whatever is opposite to it. I cannot associate 
the two ideas of assafcetida, and the taste of sugar. 
Why ? Because the idea of assafcetida is so strongly 
associated with the idea of another taste, that the 
idea of that other taste rises in combination with the 
idea of assafcetida, and of course the idea of sugar 
does not rise. I have one idea associated with the 
word pain. Why can I not associate pleasure with 
the word pain ? Because another indissoluble associ- 
ation springs up, and excludes it. This is, therefore, 
only a case of indissoluble association ; but one of 
much importance, as we shall find when we come to 
the exposition of some of the more complicated of our 
mental phenomena." 

^ Some further elucidation seems needful of what is here 
said, in so summary a manner, respecting ideas which it is not 
in our power to combine : an inability which it is essential to 
the analysis of some of the more complex phenomena of mind 

VOL. 1. H ^ 



98 THE ASSOCIATION OF IDEAS. [CHAF. HI. 

10. It not unfrequently happens in our associated 
feelings, that the antecedent is of no importance 

that we should understand the meaning of. The explanation 
is indicated, but hardly more than indicated, in the text. 

It seems to follow from the universal law of association, that 
any idea could be associated with any other idea, if the corre- 
sponding sensations, or even the ideas themselves, were pre- 
sented in juxtaposition with sufficient frequency. If, there- 
fore, there are ideas which cannot be associated with each 
other, it must be because there is something that preaents this 
juxtaposition. Two conditions hence appear to be required, 
to render ideas incapable of combination. First, the sensa- 
tions must be incapable of being had together. If we cannot 
associate the taste of assafcetida with the taste of sugar, it is 
implied, that we cannot have the taste of assafcetida along 
with the taste of sugar. If we could, a sufficient experience 
would enable us to associate the ideas. Here, therefore, is 
one necessary condition of the impossibility of associating cer- 
tain ideas with one another. But this condition, though 
necessary, is not sufficient. We are but too capable of as- 
sociating ideas together though the corresponding external 
facts are really incompatible. In the case of many errors, 
prejudices, and superstitions, two idesis are so closely and ob- 
stinately associated, that the man cannot, at least for the 
time, help believing that the association represents a real co- 
existence or sequence between outward facts, though such co- 
existence or sequence may contradict a positive law of the 
physical world. There is therefore a further condition re- 
quired to render two ideas unassociable, and this is, that one of 
them shall be already associated with some idea which excludes 
the other. Thus far the analysis is carried in the author's 
text. But the question remains, what ideas exclude one 
another ? On careful consideration I can only find one case of 
such exclusion : when one of the ideas either contains, or raises 
up by association, the idea of the absence of the other. I am 
aware of no case of absolute incompatibility of thought or 



CHAP. III.] THE ASSOCIATION OF IDEAS. 99 

farther than as it introduces the consequent. In 
these cases, the consequent absorbs all the attention, 

of imagination, except between the presence of something and 
its absence ; between an a£Brmatiye and the corresponding 
negative. If an idea irresistibly raises up the idea of the 
absence of a certain sensation, it cannot become associated 
with the idea of that sensation ; for it is impossible to combine 
together in the same mental representation, the presence of a 
sensation and its absence. 

We are not yet> however, at the end of the difl&culty ; for it 
may be objected, that the idea of the absence of anything is 
the idea of a negation, of a nullity ; and the idea of nothing 
most itself be nothing — ^no idea at all. This objection has 
imposed upon more than one metaphysician ; but the solution 
of the paradox is very simple. The idea of the presence of a 
sensation is the idea of the sensation itself along with certain 
accompanying circumstances : the idea of the absence of the 
sensation is the idea of the same accompanying circumstances 
without the sensation. For example : my idea of a body is 
the idea of a feeling of resistance, accompanying a certain 
muscular action of my own, say of my hand ; my idea of no 
body^ in other words, of empty space, is the idea of the same 
or a similar muscular action of my own, not attended by any 
feeling of resistance. Neither of these is an idea of a mere 
negation ; both are positive mental representations : but inas- 
much as one of them includes the negation of something 
positive which is an actual part of the other, they are mutually 
incompatible : and any idea which is so associated with one of 
them as to recall it instantly and irresistibly, is incapable of 
being associated with the other. 

The instance cited by the author from Dr. Brown, is a good 
illustration of the law. We can associate the ideas of a plane 
and of a convex surface as two surfaces side by side ; but we 
cannot fuse the two mental images into one, and represent to 
ourselves the very same series of points giving us the sensa- 
tions we receive from a plane surface and those we receive 

H 2 



100 THE ASSOCIATION OF IDEAS. [CHAF. III. 

ftnd the antecedent is instantly forgotten. Of this a 
very intelligible illustration is afforded by what 
happens in ordinary discourse. A friend arrives from 
a distant country, and brings me the first intelligence 
of the last illness, the last words, the last acts, 
and death of my son. The sound of the voice, the 
articulation of every word, makes its sensation in my 
ear ; but it is to the ideas that my attention flies. It 
is my son that is before me, suffering, acting, speak- 
ing, dying. The words which have introduced the 
ideas, and kindled the affections, have been as little 
heeded, as the respiration which has been accelerated, 
while the ideas were received. 

It is important in respect to this case of association 

from a convex surface both at once. That this cannot bat be 
80, is a corollary from the elementary law of association. 
Not only has no instance ever occurred in our experience of a 
surface which gave us at the same moment both these sets of 
sensations ; but whenever in our experience a surface originally 
plane, came to give us the sensations we receive from a con- 
vex surface (as for instance when we bend a flat sheet of paper)« 
it, at the very same moment, ceased to be, or to appear, a plane. 
The commencement of the one set of sensations has always 
been simultaneous with the cessation of the other set, and this 
experience, not being affected by any change of circumstances, 
has the constancy and invariability of a law of nature. It 
forms a correspondingly strong association ; and we become 
unable to have an idea of either set of sensations, those of 
planeness or those of convexity, without having the idea of 
the disappearance of the other set, if they existed previously. 
I believe it will be found that all the mental incompatibilities^ 
the impossibilities of thought, of which so much is made by a 
certain class of metaphysicians, can be accounted for in a 
similar manner.— £({. 



CHAP. III.] THE ASSOCIATION OP IDEAS. 101 

to remark, that there are large classes of our sensa- 
tions, such as many of those in the alimentary duct, 
and many in the nervous and vascular systems, which 
serve, as antecedents, to introduce ideas, as con- 
sequents; hut as the consequents are far more 
interesting than themselves, and immediately ahsorh 
the attention, the antecedents are habitually over- 
looked ; and though they exercise, by the trains which 
they introduce, a great influence on our happiness or 
misery, they themselves are generally wholly un- 
known. 

That there are connections between our ideas and 
certain states of the internal organs, is proved by 
many familiar instances. Thus, anxiety, in most 
people, disorders the digestion. It is no wonder, 
then, that the internal feelings which accompany 
indigestion, should excite the ideas which prevail in a 
state of anxiety. Fear, in most people, accelerates, in 
a remarkable manner, the vermicular motion of the 
intestines. There is an association, therefore, between 
certain states of the intestines, and terrible ideas ; and 
this is sufficiently confirmed by the horrible dreams to 
which men are subject from indigestion ; and the 
hypochondria, more or less afflicting, which almost 
always accompanies certain morbid states of the diges- 
tive organs. The grateful food which excites pleasurable 
sensations in the mouth, continues them in the 
stomach ; and, as pleasures excite ideas of their causes, 
and these of similar causes, and causes excite ideas of 
their efiects, and so on, trains of pleasurable ideas 
take their origin from pleasurable sensations in the 
stomach. Uneasy sensations in the stomach, produce 
analogous effects. Disagreeable sensations are asso- 



102 THE ASSOCIATION OF IDEAS. [CHAF. III. 

elated with disagreeable circumstances ; a train is in- 
troduced, in which, one painful idea following another, 
combinations, to the last degree afflictive, are some- 
times introduced, and the sufferer is altogether oyer- 
whelmed by dismal associations." " 

'^ There is more than association in the case here supposed. 
Fear, anxiety, and painful emotions generally, cause disorder 
in the digestive and other vital functions, as a part of their 
nature. Every mental state can be proved to have its coun- 
terpart physical state ; joy, sorrow, fear, are each embodied in 
a distinct group of physical effects in the nervous system, the 
muscular movements, and the organic processes. The physi- 
cal side of agreeable emotions, as a rule, is a heightened tone 
of the purely animal functions. The physical side of fear is a 
complicated series of effects, one of them being the depression 
of the organic processes, digestion among the rest. In this 
respect, however, it more or less resembles severe pain, sorrow, 
shame, remorse, and other states, characterised by the general 
phrase " depressing passions ;" the depression being both men- 
tal and physical. 

The reciprocal agency described in the text, whereby the 
painful sensations of indigestion induce fear, is not dependent 
on the association of ideas, but on the deep connections of the 
emotional states with one another, through their physical ac- 
companiments. A painful feeling of indigestion has much in 
common with states of depression due to mental causes, as, 
for example, the shock of a misfortune, fear, sorrow, and the 
like. From this alliance it favours the ideas of depressing 
states. It does more ; it directly reduces that vigorous tone 
of the system, which is the support of the courageous and 
sanguine disposition ; and hence, surrenders the mind an easy 
prey to any chance incentive of alarm or anxiety. — B. 

'^ The law of association laid down in this section ranks 
among the principal of what may be termed the laws of Obli- 
viscence. It is one of the widest in its action, and most im- 



CHAP. III.] THE ASSOCIATION OF IDEAS. 103 

In illustration of the fact, that sensations and ideas, 
which are essential to some of the most important 

portant in its consequences of all the laws of the mind; and 
the merit of the author, in the large use he makes of it, is very 
great, as, though it is the key that unlocks many of the more 
mysterious phenomena of the mind, it is among the least 
familiar of the mental laws, and is not only overlooked by the 
great majority of psychologists, but some, otherwise of merit, 
seem unable to see and understand the law after any quantity 
of explanation. 

The first, however, of the examples by which the author 
illustrates this law, is not marked by his usual felicity. Its 
shortcomings are pointed out by Mr. Bain in the preceding 
note. The internal feelings (says the author) which accom- 
pany indigestion, introduce trains of ideas (as in the case of 
horrible dreams, and of hypochondria) which are acutely 
painful, and may embitter the whole existence, while the sen- 
sations themselves, being comparatively of little interest, are 
unheeded and forgotten. It is true that the sensations in the 
alimentary canal, directly produced by indigestion, though (as 
every one knows) in some cases intense, are in others so 
slight as not to fix the attention, and yet may be followed by 
melancholy trains of thought, the connection of which with 
the state of the digestion may be entirely unobserved : but by 
far the most probable supposition appears to be, that these 
painful trains are not excited by the sensations, but that they 
and the sensations are joint or successive effects of a common 
organic cause. It is difiicult to comprehend how these obscure 
sensations can excite the distressing trains of ideas by the laws 
of association; for what opportunity have these sensations 
usually had of becoming associated, either synchronously or 
successively, with those ideas ? The explanation, in the text, 
of this difficulty, seems surprisingly insufficient. Anxiety, in 
most people, disorders the digestion ; and consequently, ac- 
cording to the author, the sensations of indigestion excite the 
ideas which prevail in a state of anxiety. If that were the 



104 THE ASSOCIATION OP IDEAS. [CHAP. HI, 

operations of our minds, serve only as antecedents to 
more important consequents, and are themselves so 

true explanation, the only persons with whom indigestion 
would depress the spirits, would be those who had suffered 
previous depression of spirits, sufl&cient in duration and intensity 
to disorder the digestion, and to keep it disordered long enough 
to effect a close and inseparable cohesion between even very 
slight sensations of indigestion and painful ideas excited by 
other causes. Surely this is not the fact. The theory has a 
true application in the case of the confirmed hypochondriac. 
When the sensations have been repeatedly experienced along 
with the melancholy trains of thought, a direct association is 
likely to grow up between the two ; and when this has been 
effected, the first touch of the sensations may bring back in 
full measure the miserable mental state which had coexisted 
with them, thus increasing not only the frequency of its recur- 
rence, but, by the conjunction of two exciting causes, the 
intensity of the misery. But the origin of the state moat 
be looked for elsewhere, and is probably to be sought in 
physiology. 

The other example in the text seems still less relevant. 
Fear tends to accelerate the peristaltic motion, therefore there 
is a connection between certain states of the intestines and 
terrible ideas. To make this available for the author's purpose, 
the consequence of the connection ought to be, that accelera- 
tion of the peristaltic motion excites ideas of terror. But does 
it ? The state of indigestion characteristic of hypochondria 
is not looseness of the bowels, but is commonly attended with 
the exact opposite. The author s usual acuteness of discern- 
ment seems to have been, in these cases, blunted by an 
unwillingness to admit the possibility that ideas as well as 
sensations may be directly affected by material conditions. 
But if, as he admits, ideas have a direct action on our bodily 
organs, a prima facie case is made out for the localization of 
our ideas, equally with our sensations, in some part of our 
bodily system ; and there is at least no antecedent presumption 



CHAP. III.] THE ASSOCIATION OF IDEAS. 105 

habituallj overlooked, that their existence is unknown, 
we may recur to the remarkable case which we have 
just explained, of the ideas introduced by the sensa- 
tions of sight. The minute gradations of colour, 
which accompany varieties of extension, figure, and 
distance, are insignificant. The figure, the size, the 
distance, themselves, on the other hand, are matters 
of the greatest importanc^e. The first having intro- 
duced the last, their work is done. The consequents 
remain the sole objects of attention, the antecedents 
are forgotten ; in the present instance, not com- 
pletely ; in other instances, so completely, that they 
cannot be recognised.* ** 

against the supposition that the action may be reciprocal—- 
that as ideas sometimes derange the organic functions, so 
derangements of organic functions may sometimes modify the 
trains of our ideas by their own physical action on the brain 
and nerves, and not through the associations connected with 
the sensations they excite. — Ed. 

^ Perhaps the most remarkable case of sensations over- 
looked on their own account, and considered only as a means 
of suggesting something else, is the visual, or retinal, magnitude 
of objects seen by the eye. This is probably the most delicate 
sensibility within the compass of the mind ; and yet we ha- 
bitually disregard it for all things near us, and use it solely 
for perceiving real magnitude as estimated by our locomotive 
and other members. The visual magnitude of a table, or other 
article in a room, is never thought of for itself; although 
incessantly fluctuating we never think of the fluctuations ; we 
pass from these to the one constant perception, named the 
true or real magnitude. It is only for remote objects, — as the 
sun and moon, the clouds, the distant hills, — that the retinal 
magnitude abides with us in its own proper character. In 
looking down a vista, we may also be aroused to the feeling of 



106 THE ASSOCIATION OF IDEAS. [CHAF. III. 

11. Mr. Hume, and after him other philosophers, 
have said that oar ideas are associated according to 

retinal magnitude. For perspective drawing, it is necessary 
that we should arrest the strong tendency to pass from the 
visible, to the real, forms and dimensions of things. — B. 

^ The reader, it may be hoped, is now familiar with the 
important psychological fact, so powerfully grasped and so 
discerningly employed by Hartley and the author of the 
Analysis, — that when, through the frequent repetition of a 
series of sensations, the corresponding train of ideas rashes 
through the mind with extreme rapidity, some of the links are 
apt to disappear from consciousness as completely as if they 
had never formed part of the series. It has been a subject of 
dispute among philosophers which of three things takes place 
in this case. Do the lost ideas pass through the mind without 
consciousness ? Do they pass consciously through the mind 
and are they then instantly forgotten ? Or do they never come 
into the mind at all, being, as it were, overleaped and pressed 
out by the rush of the subsequent ideas ? 

It would seem, at first sight, that the first and third suppo- 
sitions involve impossibilities, and that the second, therefore, 
is the only one which we are at liberty to adopt. As regards 
the first, it may be said — How can we have a feeling without 
feeling it, in other words, without being conscious of it ? With 
regard to the third, how, it may be asked, can any link of the 
chain have been altogether absent, through the pressure of the 
subsequent links ? The subsequent ideas are only there 
because called up by it, and would not have arisen at all unless 
it had arisen first, however short a time it may have lasted. 
These arguments seem strong, but are not so strong as they 
seem. 

In favour of the first supposition, that feelings may be un- 
consciously present, various facts and arguments are adduced 
by Sir William Hamilton in his Lectures ; but I think I have 
shewn in another work, that the arguments are inconclusive, 
and the facts equally reconcilable with the second of the three 



CHAP. Ill,] THE ASSOCIATION OF IDEAS. 107 

three principles ; Contiguity in time and place, Causa- 
tion, and Eesemblance. The Contiguity in time and 

hypotheses. That a feeling should not be felt appears to me a 
contradiction both in words and in nature. But, though a 
feeling cannot exist without being felt, the organic state which 
is the antecedent of it may exist, and the feeling itself not follow. 
This happens, either if the organic state is not of sufficient 
duration, or if an organic state stronger than itself, and con- 
flicting with it, is affecting us at the same moment. I hope 
to be excused for quoting what I have said elsewhere on this 
subject (Examination of Sir WilUam Hamilton's Philosophy, 
eh. 15). 

In the case, for instance, of a soldier who receives a wound 
in battle, but in the excitement of the moment is not aware 
" of the fact, it is difficult not to believe that if the wound 
** had been accompanied by the usual sensation, so vivid a 
*' feeling would have forced itself to be attended to and re- 
'' membered. The supposition which seems most probable is, 
** that the nerves of the particular part were affected as they 
would have been by the same cause in any other circum- 
stances, but that, the nervous centres being intensely 
occupied with other impressions, the affection of the local 
** nerves did not reach them, and no sensation was excited. In 
like manner, if we admit (what physiology is rendering more 
and more probable) that our mental feelings, as well as our 
sensations, have for their physical antecedents particular 
states of the nerves ; it may well be believed that the ap- 
parently suppressed links in a chain of association, those 






€€ 
U 



t€ 
€t 
*€ 
St 
S€ 

'* which Sir William Hamilton considers as latent^ really are 
" 80 ; that they are not, even momentarily, felt ; the chain of 



S€ 

€t 

a 

Si 

it 



causation being continued only physically, by one organic 
state of the nerves succeeding another so rapidly that the 
state of mental consciousness appropriate to each is not pro- 
duced. We have only to suppose, either that a nervous 
modification of too short duration does not produce any sen- 
sation or mental feeling at all, or that the rapid succession of 






108 THE ASSOCIATION OF IDEAS. [cHAP. m. 

place, must mean, that of the sensations ; and so far 
it is affirmed, that the order of the ideas follows that 

'' different nervous modifications makes the feelings produced 
" by them interfere with each other, and become confounded in 
** one mass. The former of these suppositions is extremely 
probable, while of the truth of the latter we have positive 
proof. An example of it is the experiment which Sir W. 
" Hamilton quoted from Mr. Mill, and which had been noticed 
*' before either of them by Hartley. It is known that the seven 
" prismatic colours, combined in certain proportions, prodnce 
" the white light of the solar ray. Now, if the seven colours 
" are painted on spaces bearing the same proportion to one 
'' another as in the solar spectrum, and the coloured surface so 
*' produced is passed rapidly before the eyes, as by the turning 
" of a wheel, the whole is seen as white. The physiological 
explanation of this phenomenon may be deduced from 
another common experiment. If a lighted torch, or a bar 
*' heated to luminousness, is waved rapidly before the eye, the 
appearance produced is that of a ribbon of light ; which is 
universally understood to prove that the visual sensation 
'' persists for a certain short time after its cause has ceased. 
*' Now, if this happens with a single colour, it will happen with 
'' a series of colours : and if the wheel on which the prismatic 
" colours have been painted, is turned with the same rapidity 
*' with which the torch was waved, each of the seven sensations 
" of colour will last long enough to be contemporaneous with 
'' all the others, and they will naturally produce by their com*' 
" bination the same colour as if they had, from the beginning, 
** been excited simultaneously. If anything similar to this 
*' obtains in our consciousness generally (and that it obtains in 
" many cases of consciousness there can be no doubt) it will 
'' follow that whenever the organic modifications of our nervous 
'' fibres succeed one another at an interval shorter than the 
'' duration of the sensations or other feelings corresponding to 
" them, those sensations or feelings will, so to speak, overlap 
'* one another, and becoming simultaneous instead of suoces- 









« 

it 

€t 



CHAP. III.] THE ASSOCIATION OF IDEAS. 109 

of the sensations. Contiguity of two sensations in 
time, means the successive order. Contiguity of two 

** siyCy will blend into a state of feeling, probably as unlike the 
'* elements out of which it is engendered, as the colour white is 
** unlike the prismatic colours. And this may be the source of 
^ many of those states of internal or mental feeling which we 
" cannot distinctly refer to a prototype in experience, our ex- 
perience only supplying the elements from which, by this 
kind of mental chemistry, they are composed. The elemen- 
tary feelings may then be said to be latently present, or to be 
present but not in consciousness. The truth, however, is 
that the feelings themselves are not present, consciously or 
latently, but that the nervous modifications which are their 
" usual antecedents have been present, while the consequents 
** have been frustrated, and another consequent has been pro- 
** duced instead." 

In this modified form, therefore, the .first of the three hypo- 
theses may possibly be true. Let us now consider the third, 
that of the entire elision of some of the ideas which form the 
associated train. This supposition seemed to be inadmissible, 
because the loss of any link would, it was supposed, cause the 
chain itself to break off at that point. To make the hypothesis 
possible, it is only, however, necessary to suppose, that, while 
the association is acquiring the promptitude and rapidity which 
it ultimately attains, each of the successive ideas abides for a 
brief interval in our consciousness after it has already called 
up the idea which is to succeed it. Each idea in the series, 
though introduced, not by synchronous, but by successive 
association, is thus, during a part of its continuance, synchro- 
nous with the idea which introduced it : and as the rapidity 
of the suggestions increases by still further repetition, an idea 
may become synchronous with another which was originally 
not even contiguous to it, but separated from it by an inter- 
vening link ; or may come into immediate instead of mediate 
sequence with such an idea. When either of these states of 
things has continued for some time, a direct association of the 



110 THE ASSOCIATION OF IDEAS. [CHAF III. 

sensations in place, means the synchronous order. We 
have explained the mode in which ideas are associated, 
in the synchronous, as well as the successive order, 
and have traced the principle of contiguity to its 
proper source. 

Causation, the second of Mr. Hume's principles, is 
the same with contiguity in time, or the order of suc- 
cession. Causation is only a name for the order esta- 
blished between an antecedent and a consequent ; that 
is, the established or constant antecedence of the one, 

synchronous or of the successive kind will be generated between 
two ideas which are not proximate links in the chain ; A will 
acquire a direct power of exciting C, independently of the inter- 
vening idea B. If, then, B is much less interesting than 
G, and especially if B is of no importance at all in itself, bat 
only by exciting C, and has therefore nothing to make the mind 
dwell on it after C ha8 been reached, the association of A with G 
is likely to become stronger than that of A with B : C will be 
habitually excited directly by A ; as the mind runs off to the 
further ideas suggested by G, B will cease to be excited at all ; 
and the train of association, like a stream which breaking 
through its bank cuts off a bend in its course, will thenceforth 
flow in the direct line AG, omitting B. This supposition 
accounts more plausibly than either of the others for the truly 
wonderful rapidity of thought, since it does not make so large 
a demand as the other theories on our ability to believe that a 
prodigious number of different ideas can successively rush 
through the mind in an instant too short for measurement. 

The result is, that all the three theories of this mental pro- 
cess seem to be quite possible ; and it is not unlikely that each 
of them may be the real process in some cases, either in different 
persons, or in the same persons under different circumstances. 
I can only remit the question to future psychologists, who may 
be able to contrive crucial experiments for deciding among these 
various possibilities. — Ed. 



CHAP. III.] THE ASSOCIATION OF IDEAS. Ill 

and consequence of the other. Resemblance only 
remains, as an alleged principle of association, and it 
is necessary to inquire whether it is included in the 
laws which have been above expounded. I believe it 
wiU be found that we are accustomed to see like 
things together. When we see a tree, we generally 
see more trees than one ; when we see an ox, we gene- 
rally see more oxen than one ; a sheep, more sheep 
than one ; a man, more men than one. From this 
observation, I think, we may refer resemblance to the 
law of frequency, of which it seems to form only a 
particular case." 

^ The reason assigned by the author for considering asso- 
dation by resemblance as a case of association by contiguity, 
is perhaps the least successful attempt at a generalisation and 
simplification of the laws of mental phenomena, to be found 
in the work. It ought to be remembered that the author, as 
the text shews, attached little importance to it. And perhaps, 
not thinking it important^ he passed it over with a less amount 
of patient thought than he usually bestowed on his analyses. 

Objects, he thinks, remind us of other objects resembling 
them, because we are accustomed to see like things together. 
But we are also accustomed to see like things separate. When 
two combinations incompatible with one another are both 
realised in familiar experience, it requires a very great prepon- 
derance of experience on one side to determine the association 
specially to either. We are also much accustomed to see un- 
like things together ; I do not mean things contrasted, but 
simply unlike. Unlikeness, therefore, not amounting to con- 
trast, ought to be as much a cause of association as likeness. 
Besides, the fact that when we see (for instance) a sheep, we 
usually see more sheep than one, may cause us, when we 
think of a sheep, to think of an entire flock ; but it does not 
explain why, when we see a sheep with a black mark on its 



112 THE ASSOCIATION OF IDEAS. [CHAP. in. 

Mr. Hume makes contrast a principle of association, 
bat not a separate one, as he thinks it is compoonded 

forehead, we are reminded of a sheep with a similar mark, for- 
merly seen, though we never saw two such sheep together. 
It does not explain why a portrait makes us think of the 
original, or why a stranger whom we see for the first time re- 
minds us of a person of similar appearance whom we saw many 
years ago. The law hy which an object reminds us of similar 
objects which we have been used to see along with it, must be 
a different law from that by which it reminds us of similar 
objects which we have not been used to see along with it. 
But it is the same law by which it reminds us of dissimilar 
objects which we have been used to see along with it. The 
sight of a sheep, if it reminds us of a flock of sheep, probably 
by the same law of contiguity, reminds us of a meadow ; bat 
it must be by some other law that it reminds us of a single 
sheep previously seen, and of the occasion on which we saw 
that single sheep. 

The attempt to resolve association by resemblance into asso* 
oiation by contiguity must perforce be unsuccessful, inasmuch 
as there never could have been association by contiguity with- 
out a previous associaticm by resemblance. Why does a sen- 
sation received this instant remind me of sensations which I 
formerly had (as we commonly say), along with it ? I never 
hadthem along with this very sensation. I never had this 
sensation until now, and can never have it again. I had the 
former sensations in conjunction not with it, but with a sen- 
sation exactly like it. And my present sensation ooald not 
remind me of those former sensations unlike itself, unless by 
first reminding me of the sensation like itself, which really did 
coexist with them. There is thus a law of association anterior 
to, and presupposed by, the law of contiguity : namely, that a 
sensation tends to recall what is called the idea of itself that 
is, the remembrance of a sensation like itself, if such has pre- 
viously been experienced. This is implied in what we call 
recognising a sensation, as one which has been felt before; 



CHAP, m.] THE ASSOCIATION OF IDEAS. 113 

of Besemblance and Cansation. It is not necessary 
for US to show that this is an unsatisfactory account 

more correctly, as undistiDguishably rcBembling one which has 
been felt before. The law in question was scientifically enun- 
ciated, and included, I believe for the first time, in the list of 
Laws of Association, by Sir William Hamilton, in one of the 
Dissertations appended to his edition of Beid : but the fact itself 
is recognised by the author of the Analysis, in various passages 
of his work ; more especially in the second section of the 
fourteenth chapter. There is, therefore, a suggestion by re- 
semblance—a calling up of the idea of a past sensation by a 
present sensation like it — which not only does not depend on 
association by contiguity, but is itself the foundation which 
association by contiguity requires for its support. 

When it is admitted that simple sensations remind us of one 
another by direct resemblance, many of the complex cases of 
suggestion by resemblance may be analysed into this ele- 
mentary case of association by resemblance, combined with an 
association by contiguity. A flower, for instance, may remind 
us of a former flower resembling it, because the present flower 
exhibits to us certain qualities, that is, excites in us certain 
sensations, resembling and recalling to our remembrance 
those we had from the former flower, and these recall the entire 
image of the flower by the law of association by contiguity. 
Bat this explanation, though it serves for many cases of com- 
plex phenomena suggesting one another by resemblance, does 
not suffice for all. For, the resemblance of complex facts 
often consists, not solely, or principally, in likeness between the 
simple sensations, but far more in likeness of the manner of 
their combination, and it is often by this, rather than by the 
single features, that they recall one another. After we had 
seen, and well observed, a single triangle, when we afterwards 
saw a second there can be little doubt that it would at once 
remind us of the first by mere resemblance. But the sugges- 
tion, would not depend on the sides or on the angles, any or 
all of them ; for we might have seen such sides and such 

VOL. I. I 



114 THE ASSOCIATION OP IDEAS. [cHAF. III. 

of contrast. It is only necessary to observe, that, as 
a case of association, it is not distinct from those 
which we have above explained. 

A dwarf suggests the idea of a giant. How ? We 
call a dwarf a dwarf, because he departs from a 
certain standard. We call a giant a giant, because 
he departs from the same standard. This is a case, 
therefore, of resemblance, that is, of frequency. 

Pain is said to make us think of pleasure ; and this 
is considered a case of association by contrast. There 
is no doubt that pain makes us think of relief from 
it ; because they have been conjoined, and the great 
vividness of the sensations makes the association 
strong. Belief from pain is a species of pleasure; 
and one pleasure leads to think of another, from the 
resemblance. This is a compound case, therefore, 
of vividness and frequency. All other cases of 
contrast, I believe, may be expounded in a similar 
manner. 

I have not thought it necessary to be tedious in 
expounding the observations which I have thus stated; 
for whether the reader supposes that resemblance is, 
or is not, an original principle of association, will not 
affect our future investigations. 

1 2. Not only do simple ideas, by strong associa- 
tion, run together, and form complex ideas : but a 

angles uncombined, or combined into some other figure. The 
resemblance by which one triangle recalls the idea of another 
is not resemblance in the parts, but priDcipally and emphati- 
cally in the manner in which the parts are put together. I 
am unable to see aoy mode in which this case of suggestion 
can be accounted for by contiguity ; any mode, at least, which 
would fit all cases of the kind. — Ed, 



CHAP. III.] THE ASSOCIATION OF IDEAS. 115 

complex idea, when the simple ideas which compose 
it have become so consolidated that it always appears 
as one, is capable of entering into combinations with 
other ideas, both simple and complex. Thus two 
complex ideas may be united together, by a strong 
association, and coalesce into one, in the same manner 
as two or more simple ideas coalesce into one. This 
union of two complex ideas into one, Dr. Hartley has 
called a duplex idea.'' Two also of these duplex, or 
doubly compounded ideas, may unite into one ; 
and these again into other compounds, without end. 
It is hardly necessary to mention, that as two complex 
ideas unite to form a duplex one, not only two, but 
more than two may so unite ; and what he calls a 
duplex idea may be compounded of two, three, four, 
or any number of complex ideas. 

Some of the most familiar objects with which we 
are acquainted furnish instances of these unions of 
complex and duplex ideas. 

Brick is one complex idea, mortar is another com- 
plex idea; these ideas, with ideas of position and 
quantity, compose my idea pf a wall. My idea of a 
plank is a complex idea, my idea of a rafter is a 
complex idea, my idea of a nail is a complex idea. 
These, united with the same ideas of position and 
quantity, compose my duplex idea of a floor. In the 
same manner my complex idea of glass, and wood, 
and others, compose my duplex idea of a window ; and 

^ I have been unable to trace in Hartley the expression 
here ascribed to him. In every passage that I can discover, 
the name he gives to a combination of two or more complex 
ideas is that of a decomplex idea. — Ed. 

I2 



116 THE ASSOCIATION OF IDEAS. [cHAP. in. 

these duplex ideas, united together, compose my idea 
of a house, which is made up of various duplex ideas. 
How many complex, or duplex ideas, are all united in 
the idea of furniture P How many more in the idea 
of merchandize P How many more in the idea called 
Every Thing P" » 

^ This chapter raises questions of the most fundamental 
kind relating to our intellectual constitution. The Associa- 
tion of Ideas, comprehensively viewed, involves everjrtbing 
connected with the mental persistence and reproduction of 
ideas ; being offered as adequate to explain the operations 
named Memory, Beason, and Imagination. 

Conditions of the Growth of Association, or of the Retentive' 
ness of the Mind. — ^A practical, as well as a theoretical, in- 
terest attaches to the precise statement of the conditions or 
circumstances that regulate the growth of our associations, in 
other words our mental culture generally. All agree in the 
efficacvof the two conditions mentioned in the text ; thoTivid- 
ness of the feelings associated, and the frequency of the 
association, that is repetition or practice. It is well remarked, 
however, that the phrase "vividness of the sensations or ideas" 
does not convey a very precise meaning. The proper attribute 
of a sensation, or an idea, considered as an inteUecttud element, 
is greater or less distinctness ; when an object seen or remem- 
bered is seen or remembered distinctly and fully, and without 
any unusual labour or effort, there is nothing more to be 
desired, so far as concerns our intelligence. If, howeYer, the 
object is accompanied with feeling — with pleasure or pain — a 
new element is introduced, to which other epithets are appli- 
cable. A feeling is more or ^css strong or intense ; and the 
addition of an intense feeling to an intellectual conception is a 
sum, combining both sets of attributes — distinctness and 
adequacy in the conception, and intensity in the feeling. An 
object whose perception or conception is thus accompanied 
with the animation of strong feeling, is called livelyi or vivid ; 



CHAP. UI.] THB ASSOCIATION OF IDEAS. 117 

in the absence of feeling, these epithets are unsuitable. Hence, 
the associating stimulus expressed by ''vividness" is better ex- 
pressed by the " strength of the feelings." Any strong feeling 
impresses on the mind whatever is the object of it, or is in any 
Tray mixed up with it. We remember by preference the things 
that have given us either pleasure or pain ; and the effect may 
be produced by mere excitement although neither pleasurable 
nor painful ; the influence of a surprise being a case in point. 
Our interest in a thing is but another name for the pleasure 
that it gives us ; and to inspire interest is to aid the memory. 
Hamilton's Law of Preference refers to this source ; and ap- 
pears to exclude, or not to recognise, the efficacy of feelings 
not pleasurable, namely, such as are either painful or neutral. 
The comprehensive law should include all the feelings, although 
there are specific characters attaching to the influence of each 
of the three modes. Pleasure is the most effectual in stamping 
the memory, as it is the most powerful in detaining the atten- 
tion and the thoughts. Pain has a conflicting operation ; as 
affecting the will, it repels the object ; but as mere excitement 
it retains it ; we cannot forget what is disagreeable, merely 
because we wish to forget it The stimulant of pain, as applied 
in education, is an indirect pleasure. It is not intended to 
make the subject of the lesson disagreeable, but to render 
painful all diversions from that towards other subjects; so that 
comparatively the most pleasing course to a pupil may be to 
abide by the task prescribed. 

The influence of the Feelings upon Uetentiveness is not 
throughout in proportion to their degree, whether they are 
pleasurable, painful, or neutral. We have to introduce a modi- 
fying circumstance into the case, namely, that great strength 
of feeling absorbs the forces of the system, and diminishes the 
power available for cementing an intellectual association. A 
strong feeling once aroused, while inflaming the attention upon 
whatever is bound up with it, necessarily engages us with it- 
self. The plastic process of fixing a train or aggregate of ideas 
has but a share of the energies awakened under feeling. 

It is possible also to stimulate attention, and thereby to 



118 THE ASSOCIATION OF IDEAS. [cHAP. HI. 

quicken memory, without the excitement of the feelings, as in 
pure voluntary attention. For although the will, in the last 
resort, is stimulated by an end (which must involve the feel- 
ings), yet we may be strongly moved without being under the 
excitement of the feelings that enter into the final end. Our 
volitions may be energetic, without the presence of strong emo- 
tions, notwithstanding that, apart from our possessing such 
emotions, we should not be strongly moved to action. Thus, a 
difference is made between the influence of the feelings and the 
influence of the will ; both being powers to impress the memory. 
The two considerations now advanced, — namely, the want of 
strict concomitance between strength of feeling and the stimulus 
to memory, and the operation of the will in the abeyance of 
present feeling, — make it desirable to find some other mode of 
stating the element or condition that qualifies the influence of 
Frequency or Repetition, in the growth of memory and associa- 
tion. Perhaps the best mode of singling out the operative circum- 
stance is to describe it as " Concentration of Mind ;" the devo- 
tion of the mental forces to ,|he thing to be done or remembered 
— the withdrawal of power from other exercises, to expend it on 
the exercise in hand. Every circumstance that at once rouses 
the mental and nervous energies, and keeps them fixed upon 
any subject of study or the practice of any art, is a circumstance 
in aid of acquisition. No fact more comprehensive, more 
exactly in point, can be assigned than the one now stated. 
What remains is to apply it in the detail, or to point out the 
occasions and conditions that favour, and those that obatruot^ 
the concentration of the mental energy. It is under this 
view that we can best appreciate the efficacy of pleasure (in- 
terest in the subject), of pain, of mere excitement, and of 
voluntary attention. We can also see, as an obvious corollaryi 
the advantage of having the mind unoccupied, or disengaged 
for the work, and the disadvantage of being diverted, or dis- 
tracted by other objects. Fear, care, anxiety, are hostile to 
culture by lowering the tone or energy of the mind ; while what 
power is left concentrates itself upon the subject matter of the 
anxious feeling. On the other hand, general vigour of the 



CHAP. III.] THE ASSOCIATION OP IDEAS. 119 

system, good health, easy circumstances, are all in favour of 
mental improvement, provided the force thus made available 
oan be reserved and devoted to that end. 

Thus the two leading conditions of the plastic process are 
Frequency of Bepetition, and Mental Concentration. For 
practical purposes, these are all that we need to consider, at 
least as regards the same individual. We have no art or 
device for training either body or mind but what is comprised 
under one or other of these heads. There are methods of 
superseding the labour of new acquirement, by adapting ex- 
isting acquirements to new cases ; but no means can be 
assigned for the original construction of adhesive links, apart 
from these two circumstances. 

Still, in a large and exhaustive view of the Retentive power 
of the mind, we should not omit to allow for the differences 
between one mind and another in respect of Natural Aptitude 
for acquiring. When two persons engaged in the same lesson, 
for equal periods of time, and with about equal concentration 
of mind, make very unequal progress, we must admit a 
difference in natural or constitutional plasticity on that par- 
ticular subject. Sometimes we find extraordinary progress 
made in acquisition generally ; the same person excelling in 
languages, in sciences, in practical arts, and in fine arts. 
More commonly, however, we find an aptitude for some subject 
in particular, combined with deficiency in other things. One 
person has great mechanical acquirements, another lingual, 
and so on. 

The first case is sufficiently common to justify the assumption 
of degrees of acquisitive or plastic aptitude on the whole, or a 
variety in the cerebral endowment corresponding to the adhesion 
of trains of actions and ideas that have been more or less fre- 
quently brought together. If the differences among human 
beings are not so broad as to make this apparent, we may refer 
to the differences between the lower animals and man. The 
animals have the power of acquiring, but so limited is that 
power in comparison with human beings, that people have often 
doubted its existence. 



120 THE ASSOCIATION OF IDEAS. [CHAP. III. 

The second case, the inequality of the same person's pro- 
gress in different subjects, may be looked at in another way. 
We may view it as incident to the better or worse quality, for 
all purposes, of the special organs concerned. Thus to take 
musical acquisition. This is commonly attributed to* a good 
ear, meaning a delicate sense of musical notes, as shown in 
their nice discrimination. Discriminating is a different function 
from remembering ; yet, we can hardly doubt that the fact of 
being able to discriminate acutely is accompanied by the power 
of remembering or retaining the impressions of the sense. 
The superiority of endowment that shows itself in the one 
function, embraces also the other. Hence we are entitled to 
say that the special retentiveness for any one subject, or de- 
partment of training, varies with the local endowment involved : 
which is not to maintain an identical proposition, for the local 
endowment may be held as tested by delicacy of discrimination, 
a distinct fact from memory. Thus, a delicate sense of shades 
of colour would entail a good visual memory for spectacle; a 
delicate ear for articulation would indicate a memory for shades 
and varieties of pronunciation, thereby counting as a part of 
the verbal memory. So, delicate discrimination in the tactile 
muscles would be followed by rapid acquirements in manipula- 
tive or manual art 

The Ultimate Analysis of the Laws of Association, — It 
is easy to reduce all the laws ever assigned, as governing the 
reproduction of our ideas, to three, Contiguity, Similarity, and 
Contrast. It is open to question whether these can be resolved 
any farther. The author has endeavoured to reduce Similarity 
to Contiguity, but his reasons show that he had not deeply 
considered the workings of similarity. Hamilton's criticisms 
on the attempt (Reid, p. 914) are just and irrefragable. By fiir 
the most important examples of the working of similarity are 
such as, by their very nature, preclude a former contiguity : 
as, for example, Franklin's identification of Electricity and 
lightning. 

There is, nevertheless, a considerable degree of subtiety in the 
relationship of the two principles. There may be good reasons 



CHAP. III.] THE ASSOCIATION OF IDKAS. 121 

for treating them as distinct, but in their working they are 
inextricably combined. There can be no contiguity without 
similarity, and no similarity without contiguity. When, looking 
at a river, we pronounce its name, we are properly said to 
exemplify contiguity; the river and the name by frequent 
association are so united that each recalls the other. But 
mark the steps of the recall. What is strictly present to our 
view is the impression made by the river while we gaze on it. 
It is necessary that this impression should, by virtue of simi- 
larity or identity, re-instate the previous impression of the river, 
to which the previous impression of the name was contiguous. 
If one could suppose failure in the re-instatement of the former 
idea of the river, under the new presentation, there would be 
no opportunity given to the contiguous bond to come into 
operation. In that accumulation of the impressions of con- 
tiguous ideas, ending at last in a firm association, there must 
be a process of similarity to the extent of reviving the sum of 
the past at the instance of the present. This is a case of 
similarity that we give little heed to, because it is sure and 
unfailing; we concern ourselves more with what is liable to 
nnoertainty, the acquired strength of the contiguous adhesion. 
Yet it strictly comes under the case of reproduction through 
nmilarity. 

Consider again, what may be called a case of Similarity 
proper, as when a portrait recalls the original. The sensuous 
effects possessed in common by the portrait and by its subject 
bring about a restoration of the idea of the subject, in spite of 
certain differences or discrepancies. The interest of this case 
is owing to the fact that a partial likeness, a likeness in un- 
Ukeness, will often reproduce a past idea ; thus enabling us to 
assemble in the mind a number of things differing in some 
r^ects because they agree in other respects. This is not 
identifying a thing with itself, viewed at a former time, but 
assimilating one thing with other things placed far asunder in 
nature, and having many features of difference. 

Let us try and express the consecutive steps of this case of 
reprodnction. The thing now present to the mind has certain 



122 THE ASSOCIATION OF IDEAS. [cHAP. IIT. 

peculiarities in common with one or more things formerly pre- 
sent ; as when, in a portrait, the outline and colouring resembles 
a subject original. These sensible effects make alive the 
previous recurrence of them, or put us in the cerebral and 
mental attitude formerly experienced by the corresponding 
effects of the resembling object. We are aware, by the liveli- 
ness of our impression, that we have gone in upon an old 
track ; we have the peculiar consciousness called the conscious- 
ness of Identity or Agreement. This is one step, but not the 
whole. In order that the complete restoration may be effected, 
the features of community must be in such firm contiguous 
alliance with the features of difference — ^the special part of the 
previous subject^-that the one shall reinstate the idea of the 
other. The points common to a present portrait and a past 
original must be so strongly coherent with the remaining 
features of the original, that the one cannot be awakened with- 
out the other following. Here, then, in the very heart of 
Similarity, is an indispensable bond of Contiguity ; showing 
that it is not possible for either process to be accomplished in 
separation from the other. The mutual coherence of parts, 
now described as essential to reproduction, may be too weak 
for the purpose, and the recovering stroke of similarity will in 
that case fail. 

It might, therefore, be supposed that Similarity is, after all, 
but a mode of Contiguity, namely, the contiguity or association 
of the different features or parts of a complex whole. The 
inference is too hasty. Because contiguity is a part of the 
fact of the restoration of similars, it is not the entire fact. 
There is a distinct and characteristic step preceding the play of 
this mutual coherence of the parts of the thing to be recovered. 
The striking into the former track of the agreeing part of the new 
and the old, is a mental movement by itself, which the other 
follows, but does not do away with. The effect above described, 
as the consciousness of agreement or identity, the flash of a 
felt similarity, is real and distinct. We are conscious of it by 
itself; there are occasions when we have it without the other, 
that is to say, without the full re-instatement of the former 



CHAP. III.] THE ASSOCIATION OP IDEAS. 1 23 

object in its eDtireness. We are often aware of an identity 
without being able to say what is the thing identified ; as when 
a portrait gives us the impression that we have seen the 
original, without enabling us to say who the original is. We 
baye been affected by the stroke of identity or similarity ; but 
the restoration fails from the feebleness of the contiguous 
adherence of the parts of the object identified. There is thus a 
genuine effect of the nature of pure similarity, or resemblance, 
and a mode of consciousness accompanying that effect; 
bat there is not the full energy of reproduction without a con- 
curring bond of pure contiguity. A portrait may fail to give 
US the consciousness of having ever seen the original. On the 
supposition that we have seen the original, this would be a 
fiailure of pure similarity. 

Thus in every act of reproducing a past mental experience, 
there is a complication, involving both contiguity proper and 
similarity proper. When the similarity amounts to identity, as 
when a new impression of a thing puts us in the track of the 
old impressions of the same thing, the effect is so sure, so 
ubvious, so easily arrived at, that we do not need to think of it, 
to make a question of it. It does not prevent us from regard- 
ing the operation of recalling a name when we see the thing, 
or recalling a thing when we hear the name, as pure contiguity. 
The strength of the coherence may be deficient, and the resto- 
ration may fail on this account ; it can never fail on account of 
insufficient similarity. No inconvenience will arise from speak- 
ing of this case as if it were Contiguity and nothing else. 

The situation of Similarity in Diversity is quite distinct. 
The diversity obstructs the operation of similarity ; we cannot 
be sure that the new shall put us on the track of the old. It 
is always a question whether such similarities shall be felt at 
all ; whether we shall experience the flash, the peculiar con- 
aciousness, of agreement in difference. It is a farther question, 
whether the internal coherence of the thing identified is enough 
to restore it in completeness. This last step may be allowed to 
be a case of proper contiguity; while the flash of identity 
struck between a present* and a past, never coupled in the 



124 THE ASSOCIATION OF IDEAS. [cHAP. in. 

mind before, is an effect sui generis, and not resolvable into 
any mode or incident of contiguity. 

The circumstances of this identifying stroke are so numerous 
and far-reaching as to demand a special exemplification. Some 
of the broadest distinctions of intellectual character can be 
grounded on the distinctive aptitudes of the mind for Con- 
tiguity and for Similarity. 

Learning, Acquisition, Memory^ Habit, all designate the 
plastic adherence of contiguous impressions. The procesees 
of Classification, Reasoning, Imagination, and the Inventive 
faculty generally, depend upon the identifying stroke of like- 
ness in unlikeness. Some forms of intellectual strength, as a 
whole, are best represented by a highly energetic AdhesiTe* 
ness ; distinction as a learner, a follower of routine, turns upon 
this power. Other, and higher, forms of intelligence depend 
upon far-reaching strokes of similarity ; the identification of 
likeness shrouded in diversity, expresses much of the geniiui 
of the poet, the philosopher, the man of practice. 

There remains the consideration of Contrast, as a link of 
association. It is easy to show that both Contiguity and 
Similarity may enter into the association of contrasts. All 
contrasts that we are interested in are habitually coupled in 
language, as light and dark, heat and cold, up and dov^, life 
and death. Again contrasts suppose a common genus, that is 
a generic similarity ; at least until we ascend to the highest 
contrast of all, the subject mind, and the object or extended 
world. Cold and Hot are grades of the common attribute 
called Temperature. As these links of contiguity and simila- 
rity are present, and of considerable strength, they practieaHj 
lead to the mutual suggestion of contrasting things. 

Still, we cannot overlook the deeper circumstance that in 
contrast there is relation, and therefore mutual implication, 
so that the two members must always be virtually present^ 
although they are not equally attended to. Heat has no 
meaning, no existence, but as a change from cold ; the north 
implicates the south. We have two modes of regarding these 
relationships, which are distinguisBed by language, as if we 



^ 



CHAP. UI.] THE ASSOCIATION OF IDEAS. 125 

could abstract the one side from the other ; that is, we think 
of heat apart from cold, and of the north apart from the south. 
But if one side is present, both must be present, and nothing 
ia wanted but a motive, to make us reverse the conception, and 
bring into prominence the side that was in abeyance, cold 
instead of heat» south instead of north. 

This view of Contrast is variously expressed by Hamilton. 
(Beid, Note J) i f *). 

Contrast^ thersfbre, as an associating link, would draw from 
three sources. Relativity, Contiguity, and Similarity. It would 
also be heightened, in many instances, by the presence of 
strong feeling^ or emotions, as in the contemplation of start- 
ling changes, and the vicissitudes of things. Being one of 
the efEeots habitually introduced in Art and in Oratory, we 
are more than ordinarily impressed by the things so made use 
of — ^infimcy beside old age, squalor following on splendour, 
abasement succeeding to elevation. 

The associating principle of Contrast cannot be put forward 
as a basis of distinction in intellectual character. There is 
no such a thing as a special aptitude for Contrasts. There 
may be, in certain minds given to emotion, a fondness for the 
Impressive or emotional contrasts ; but there is no intellectual 
gift, subsisting apart from other powers and rising and falling 
independently, for the mutual recall of contrasting qualities. 
Whenever we feel a difference we make a contrast ; the two 
differing things, are contrasting things, and are both known 
in one indivisible act of thought To be unable to bring up 
the contrast of a subject present to the view, is not to know 
the subject; we cannot possess intelligently the conception 
of " up," and be oblivious to, or incapable of remembering, 
" down." Forgetfulness in this department is not the snap- 
ping of a link, as in Contiguity, or the dulness that cannot 
reach a similitude ; it is the entire blank of conception or 
knowledge. The north pole of a magnet cannot be in the 
view, and the south pole in oblivion. — B. 

^ The author and Mr. Bain agree in rejecting Contrast as 
an independent principle of association. I think they might 



126 THE ASSOCIATION OF IDEAS. [cHAP. III. 

have gone further, and denied it even as a derivative one. All 
the cases considered as examples of it seem to me to depend 
on something else. I greatly doubt if the sight or thought of 
a dwarf has intrinsically any tendency to recall the idea of a 
giant. Things certainly do remind us of their own absence, 
because (as pointed out by Mr. Bain) we are only conscioas of 
their presence by comparison with their absence ; and for a 
further reason, arising out of the former, viz. that, in our 
practical judgments, we are led to think of the case of their 
presence and the case of their absence by one and the same 
act of thought, having commonly to choose between the two. 
But it does not seem to me that things have any special 
tendency to remind us of their positive opposites. Black 
does not remind us of white more than of red or green. If 
light reminds us of darkness, it is because darkness is the mere 
negation, or absence, of light. The case of heat and cold is 
more complex. The sensation of heat recalls to us the absence 
of that sensation : if the sensation amounts to pain, it calls 
up the idea of relief from it ; that is, of its absence, associated 
by contiguity with the pleasant feeling which accompanies the 
change. But cold is not the mere absence of heat ; it is itself 
a positive sensation. If heat suggests to us the idea of the 
sensation of cold, it is not because of the contrast, but because 
the close connection which exists between the outward con- 
ditions of both, and the consequent identity of the means we 
employ for regulating them, cause the thought of cold and 
that of heat to be frequently presented to us in contiguity. — Ed. 



CHAP. IV.] NAMING. 127 



CHAPTER IV. 



NAMING. 

** I endeavour, as mucli as I can, to deliver myself from tliose 
fiillacies which we are apt to put upon ourselves, bv taking words 
for things. It helps not our ignorance to feign a knowledge 
where we have none, bj making a noise with sounds without 
dear and distinct significations. Names made at pleasure, 
neither alter the nature of things, nor make us understand them, 
but as they are signs of, and stand for, determined ideas." — 
Zoeie, Hum. Und. b. iL ch. 18, § 18. 

Wi haye now surveyed the more simple and obvious 
phenomena of the human mind. We have seen, first, 
that we have sensations; secondly, that we have 
IDBAS, the copies of those sensations ; thirdly, that 
those ideas are sometimes simple, the copies of one 
sensation ; sometimes complex, the copies of seyeral 
sensations so combined as to appear not several ideas, 
but one idea ; and, fourthly, that we have trains of 
those ideas, or one succeeding another without end. 

These are simple facts of our nature, attested by 
experience ; and my cliief object in fixing upon them 
the attention of the reader has been, to convey to him 
that accurate and steady conception of them, which is 
requisite for the successful prosecution of the subse- 
quent inquiries. 




128 NAMING. [chap. TV. 

After delineating the simple and elementary states 
of consciousness, it follows, in order, that we should 
endeavour to show what is contained in those that are 
complex. But in all the more complicated cases of 
human consciousness something of the process of 
Naming is involved. These cases, of course, cannot 
be unfolded, till the artifice of Naming is made known. 
This, therefore, is necessarily an intermediate inquiry ; 
and one to which it is necessary that we should devote 
a particular degree of attention. 

There are two purposes, both of great importance, 
for which marks of our ideas, and sensations ; or signs 
by which they may be denoted ; are necessary. One 
of these purposes is. That we may be able to make 
known to others what passes within us. The other 
is. That we may secure to ourselves the knowledge of 
what at any preceding time has passed in our miuds. 

The sensations and ideas of one man are hidden 
from all other men; unless they have recourse to 
some expedient for disclosing them. We cannot con- 
vey to another man our sensations and ideas direcdj. 
Our means of intercourse with other men are through 
their senses exclusively. We must therefore choose some 
SENSIBLE OBJECTS, as SIGNS of our iuward feelings. If 
two men agree, that each shall use a certain sensible 
sign, when one of them means to make known to the 
other that he has a certain sensation, or idea, they, 
in this, and in no other way, can communicate a 
knowledge of those feelings to one another. 

Almost all the advantages, which man possesses 
above the inferior animals, arise from his power of 
acting in combination with his fellows ; and of accom- 
plishing, by the united efforts of numbers, what could 



CHAP. IV.] NAMING. 129 

not be accomplished by the detached efforts of indi- 
viduals. Without the power of communicating to 
one another their sensations and ideas, this co-opera- 
tion would be impossible. The importance, therefore, 
of the invention of signs, or marks, by which alone 
that communication can be effected, is obvious. 

Among sensible objects, those alone which are ad- 
dressed to the senses of seeing and hearing have suffi- 
cient precision and variety to be adapted to this end. 
The language of Action, as it has been called, that is, 
certain gesticulations and motions, has very generally, 
especially among rude people, whose spoken language 
is scanty, been found in use to indicate certain states, 
generally complicated states, of mind. But, for preci- 
sion, variety, and rapidity, the flexibility of the voice 
presented such obvious advantages, not to mention 
that visible signs must be altogether useless in the 
dark, that sounds, among all the varieties of our 
species, have been assumed as the principal medium 
by which their sensations and ideas were made known 
to one another. 

There can be little doubt that, of the two uses of 
marks. Communicating our thoughts, and Eecording 
them, the advantage of the fir^t would be the earliest 
felt ; and that signs for Communicating would be long 
invented, before any person would see the advantage 
of Eecording his thoughts. After the use of signs for 
Communication had become familiar, it would not 
fail, in time, to appear that signs might be employed 
for Recordation also ; and that, from this use of them, 
the highest advantages might be derived. 

In respect to those advantages, the following parti- 
culars are to be observed. 

VOL. I. K 




130 NAMING. [chap. IV. 

1. We cannot recall any idea, or train of ideas, at 
will. Thoughts come into the mind unbidden. If 
they did not come unbidden, they must have been in 
the mind before they came into it ; which is a contra- 
diction. You cannot bid a thought come into the 
mind, without knowing that which you bid ; but to 
know a thought is to have the thought : the know- 
ledge of the thought, and the thought's being in the 
mind, are not two things but one and the same thing, 
under different names. 

If we cannot recall at pleasure a single idea, we are 
not less unable to recall a train. Every person kno¥r8 
how evanescent his thoughts are, and how impossible 
it is for him to begin at the beginning of a past train, 
if it is not a train of the individual objects familiar to 
his senses, and go on to the end, neither leaving out 
any of the items which composed it, nor allowing any 
which did not belong to it, to enter in. 

2. It is most obvious that, by ideas alone, the events 
which are passed, are to us any thing. If the objects 
which we have seen, heard, smelt, tasted, and touched, 
left no traces of themselves ; if the immediate sensation 
were every thing, and a blank ensued when the sensa- 
tion ended, the past would be to us as if it had never 
been. Yesterday would be as unknown as the months 
we passed in the womb, or the myriads of years before 
we were bom. 

3. It is only by our ideas of the past, that we have 
any power of anticipating the future. And if we had 
no power of anticipating the future, we should have 
no principle of action, but the physical impulses, which 
we have in common with the brutes. This great law 
of our nature, the anticipation of the future from the 



CHAP. IV.] NAMING. 131 

past, will be fully illustrated in a subsequent part of 
this inquiry : at present, all that is required is, the 
admission, which will probably not be refused, of this 
general truth : That the order, in which events have 
been observed to take place, is the order in which 
they are expected to take place; that the order in 
which they have taken place is testified to us only by 
our ideas ; and that upon the correctness, with which 
they are so testified, depends the faculty we possess of 
converting the powers of nature into the instruments 
of our will ; and of bringing to pass the events which 
we desire. 

4. Bat all this power depends upon the order of 
our ideas. The importance, therefore, is unspeakable, 
of being able to insure the order of our ideas; to 
make, in other words, the order of a train of ideas 
correspond unerringly with a train of past sensations. 
We have not, however, a direct command over the 
train of our ideas. A train of ideas may have passed 
ia our mind, correspondiag to event/of grjt im- 
portaaoe , but that tr^inwi/aot pa,s again, unvaried, 
except in very simple cases, without the use of eapedients. 

5. The diflTerence between the occasions of our ideas, 
and the occasions of our sensations, affords a resource 
for this purpose. Over the occasions of our sensations 
we have an extensive power. We can command the 
smell of a rose, the hearing of a bell, the sight of a tree, 
the sensation of heat or of cold, and so on. Over the 
occasions of our ideas we have little or no direct power. 
Our ideas come and go. There is a perpetual train of 
them, one succeeding another ; but we cannot will any 
link in that chain of ideas ; each link is determined by 
the foregoing ; and every man knows^ how impossible 

k2 



132 NAMING. [chap. IV^ 

it is, by mere willing, to make such a train as he 
desires. Thoughts obtrude themselves without his 
bidding ; and thoughts which he is in quest of will 
not arise. 

By the power, however, which we have over the 
occasions of our sensations, we can make sure of having 
a train of sensations exactlv the same as we have had 
before. This affords us the means of having a train 
of ideas exactly the same as we have had before. If 
we choose a number of sensible objects, and make use 
of them as marks of our ideas, we can ensure any suc- 
cession which we please of the sensible objects ; and, 
by the association between them and the ideas, a 
corresponding succession of the ideas. 

6. To one of the two sets of occasions, upon which 
Sign8 are thus useful, evanescent Signs are the best 
adapted ; permanent signs are absolutely necessary for 
the other. For the purposes of speech, or immediate 
communication, sounds are the most convenient marks* 
Sounds, however, perish in the making. But for the 
purpose of retracing a train of ideas, which we have 
formerly had, it is necessary we should have marks 
which do not perish. Marks, addressed to the sight, 
or the touch, have the requisite permanence ; and, of 
the two, those addressed to the eye have the advan- 
tage. Of marks addressed to the eye, two kinds 
have been adopted ; either marks immediately of the 
ideas intended to be recalled ; such as the picture- 
writing, or hieroglyphics, of some nations : or, visible 
marks, by letters, of the audible marks employed in 
oral communication. This latter kind has been found 
the most convenient, and in use among the largest, 
and most intelligent portion of our species. 



CHAP, nr.] NAMING. 188 

According to this scheme, spoken language is the 
use of immediate marks of the ideas ; written language, 
is the use of secondary marks of the ideas. The written 
marks are only signs of the audihle marks ; the audihle 
marks, are signs of the ideas.^ 

^ This exposition of Naming in its most general aspect, needs 
neither expIanatioD nor comment. It is one of those specimeDs 
of clear and vigorous statement, going straight to the heart of 
the matter, and dwelling on it just long enough and no longer 
than necessary, in which the Analysis abounds.*-£d 



134 NAMING. [chap. IV. 



SECTION I. 



NOUNS SUBSTANTIVE. 



The power of Language essentially consists, in two 
things ; first, in our having marks of our sensations, 
and IDEAS : and, secondly, in so arranging them, that 
they may correctly denote a train of those mental 
states or feelings. It is evident, that if we convey to 
others the ideas which pass in our own minds, and also 
convey them in the order in which they pass, the 
business of communication is completed. And, if we 
establish the means of reviving the ideas which we 
have formerly had, and also of reviving them in the 
order in which we formerly had them, the business of 
RECORDATION is Completed. We now proceed to show, 
by what contrivances, the expedient of Marking is 
rendered eflBcient to those several ends. 

The primary importance to men, of being able to 
make known to one another their sensations, made 
them in aU probability begin with inventing marks for 
that purpose ; in other words, making Names for their 
SENSATIONS. Two modcs presented themselves. One 
was to give a name to each single sensation. 
Another was to bestow a name on a cluster of sensa* 
tions, whenever they were such as occur in a cluster. 
Of this latter class, are all names of what are called 
External Objects ; rose, water, stone, and so on. 
Each of these names is the mark of as many sensa- 
tions (sight, touch, smell, taste, sound) as we are said 
to derive from those objects. The name rose, is the 




SECT. I.] NOUNS SUBSTANTIVE. 135 

mark of a sensation of colour, a sensation of shape, a 
sensation of touch, a sensation of smell, all in con- 
junction. The name water, is the mark of a sensation 
of colour, a sensation of touch, a sensation of taste, and 
other sensations, regarded not separately, but as a 
compound.*' 

There is a convenience in giving a single mark to 
any number of sensations, which we thus have in 
clusters ; because there is hence a great saving of 
marks. The sensations of sight, of touch, of smell, 
and so on, derived from a rose, might have received 
marks, and have been enumerated, one by one ; but the 
term rose, performs all this much more expeditiously, 
and also more certainly. 

The occasions, however, are perpetual, on which 
we need marks for sensations, not in clusters, but 
taken separately. And language is supplied with 

** It is not intended to be understood that all this complex 
meaning entered into the names as originally given. The pro- 
cess of naming seems to have been this : Each object was 
desigpiated by a term expressive of some one prominent quality, 
and of that only. Thus rose is referred with every probability 
to the same root as the adjective red (compare Greek poSov, 
a rose, ipvOpoQ red, German rothf Latin rutihis), and thus 
meant "the ruddy" (flower). Other objects would doubtless 
also be called ** ruddy," and would dispute the epithet with the 
rose ; but by a process of natural selection, each would settle 
down in possession of the terra found best suited to distinguish 
it ; which would thus cease to be an attributive, and become a 
name substantive with a complex connotation derived from 
association. All names of objects whose origin can be traced 
are found to be thus simple in their primary signification. 
The stars (Sans, staras) were so called because they were 
" strewers" (of light).— jF. 



136 NAMING. [CHAF. IT. 

names of this description. We have the t^rms, red, 
green, hot, cold, sweet, bitter, hard, soft, noise, stench, 
composing in the whole a numerous class. For many 
sensations, however, we have not names in one word ; 
but make a name out of two or more words : thus, for 
the sensation of hearing, derived from a trumpet, we 
have only the name, " sound of a trumpet ;" in the 
same manner, we have " smell of a rose,'' " taste of an 
apple," " sight of a tree," ** feeling of velvet." 

Of those names which denote clusters of sensations, 
it is obvious (but still very necessary) to remark, that 
some include a greater, some a lesser number of sensa- 
tions. Thus, stone includes only sensations of touch, 
and sight. Apple, beside sensations of touch and 
sight, includes sensations of smell and taste. 

We not only give names to clusters of sensations, 
but to clusters of clusters ; that is, to a number of 
minor clusters, united into a greater cluster. Thus 
we give the name wood to a particular cluster of 
sensations, the name canvas to another, the name 
rope to another. To these clusters, and many others, 
joined together in one great cluster, we give the name 
ship. To a number of these great clusters united 
into one, we give the name fleet, and so on. How 
great a number of clusters are united in the term 
House ? And how many more in the term City ? 

Sensations being infinitely numerous, all cannot 
receive marks or signs. A selection must be made. 
Only those which are the most important are named. 

Names, to be useful, cannot exceed a certain number. 
They could not otherwise be remembered. It is, 
therefore, of the greatest importance that each name 
should accomplish as much as possible. To this end, 



SECT. I.] NOUNS SUBSTANTIVE. 187 

the greater number of names stand, not for individuals 
only, but classes. Thus the terms red, sweet, hot, 
loud, are names, not of one sensation only, but of 
classes of sensations ; that is, every sensation of a 
particular kind. Thus also the term, rose, is not the 
name of one single cluster, but of every cluster coming 
under a certain description. As rose denotes one 
class, stone denotes another, iron another, ox another, 
and so on.^ 

As we need marks for sensations, we need marks 
also for IDEAS. 

The Ideas which we have occasion to name, are, 
first, Simple Ideas, the copies of simple sensations ; 
secondly, Complex Ideas, the copies of several sensa- 
tions, combined. Of those complex ideas, also, there 
is one species, those copied directly from sensations, 
in the formation of which the mind has exercised but 
little control ; as the ideas of rose, horse, stone, and 
of what are called the objects of sense in general. 
There is another species of complex ideas which, 
though derived also from the senses, are put together 
in a great degree at our discretion, as the ideas of a 

^ Economy in the use of names is a very small part of the 
motive leading to the creation of names of classes. If we 
had a name for every individual object which exists in the 
universe, and could remember all those names, we should still 
require names for what those objects or some of them have in 
common ; in other words, we should require classification, and 
class-names. This will be obvious if it is considered that had 
we no names but names of individuals, we should not have 
the means of making any affirmation respecting any object ; 
we could not predicate of it any qualities. But of this more 
largely in a future note. — Ed. 



138 NAMING. [chap, IV. 

centaur, a mountain of gold, of comfort, of meanness ; 
all that class of ideas in short which Mr. Locke has 
called mixed modes. 

We may thus distinguish three classes of ideas, 
which we have occasion to name : 1, simple ideas, the 
copies of single sensations : 2, complex ideas, copied 
directly from sensations: 3, complex ideas, derived 
indeed from the senses, but put together in arbitrary 
combinations. The two former classes may be called 
Sensible, the last Mental Ideas. 

With respect to ideas, of the first two classes, those 
which are the direct copies of our sensations, either 
singly, or in groups; it is of great importance to 
observe, and also to remember, that, for the most part, 
the words, which are employed as marks of the Sen- 
sations, are made to serve the further purpose of 
being marks also of the Ideas. The same word is at 
once the name of the sensations, and the ideas. 

If any person were asked, whether the word bein'g 
is the name of a Sensation, or of an Idea ; he would 
immediately reply, that it is the name of an Idea. In 
like manner, if he were asked, whether the word 
ANIMAL is the mark of a cluster of Sensations, or of a 
cluster of Ideas ; he would with equal readiness say, 
of a cluster of Ideas. But if we were to ask, whether 
the name Sheep is the name of a cluster of Sensa- 
tions, or of a cluster of Ideas ; he would probably say, 
that Sheep is the name of Sensations ; in the same 
manner as rose, or apple. Yet, what is the differ- 
ence? Only this, that animal is the more general 
name, and includes sheep along with other species ; 
and that being is still more general, and includes 
animal along with vegetable, mineral, and other 



SECT. I.] NOUNS SUBSTANTIVE. 139 

ffenera. If sheep, therefore, or stone, be a name of 
sensations, so is animal or being ; and if animal, or 
being, be a name of ideas, so is sheep or stone a name 
of ideas. The fact is, they are all names of both. 
They are names of the Sensations, primarily ; but are 
afterwards employed as names also of the Ideas or 
copies of those sensations. 

It thus appears, that the names generally of what 
are called the objects of sense are equivocal ; and 
whereas it would have been a security against con- 
fusion to have been provided with appropriate names, 
one, in each instance, for the Sensation, and one for 
the Idea, the same name has been made to serve as 
the mark for both. The term horse is not only made 
to stand for the sensations of sight, of hearing, of 
touch, and even of smell, which give me occasion for 
the use of the term horse ; but it stands also for the 
ideas of those sensations, as often as I have occasion 
to speak of that cluster of ideas which compose my 
notion of a horse. The term tree denotes undoubtedly 
the Idea in my mind, when I mean to convey the 
idea tree into the mind of another man ; but it also 
stands for the sensations whence I have derived my 
idea of a tree. 

Thus, too, if I mean to name my simple ideas ; 
those, for example, of sight ; I have no other names 
than red, blue, violet, &c.; but all these are names of the 
sensations. When forced to distinguish them, I must 
use the awkward expressions, my sensation of red, my 
idea of red. Again ; sound of a trumpet, is the name, 
as well of the sensation, as the idea ; flight of a bird, 
the name, as well of the sensation, as the idea ; light 
the name as well of the sensation as the idea ; pain 



140 NAMING. [chap. IV. 

the name as well of the sensation as the idea ; heat 
the name as well of the sensation as the idea.^ 

As we have remarked, in regard to sensations, 
singly, or in clusters, that they are too numerous to 
receive names but in classes, that is names common 
to every individual of a class, the same is obviooslj 
true of the ideas. The greater number of names of 
Sensible Ideas are names of classes : man is the name 
of a class ; lion, horse, eagle, serpent, and so on, are 
names of classes. 

Ideas, of the third class, those which the mind 
forms arbitrarily, are innumerable ; because the com- 
binations capable of being formed of the numerouB 
elements which compose them, exceed computation. 
All these combinations cannot receive names. The 
memory can manage but a moderate number. Of 
possible combinations, therefore, a small proportion 
must be selected for naming. These, of course, are 
the combinations which are suggested by the occa- 
sions of life, and conduce to the ends which we 
pursue. 

We arrange those ideas, also, in classes; to the 
end that every name may serve the purpose of mark- 
ing, as extensively as possible. Thus the term fear is 

^ In strict propriety of language all these are names only 
of sensations, or clusters of sensations; not of ideas. A 
person studious of precision would not, I think, say heat, 
meaning the idea of heat, or a tree, when he meant the idea 
of a tree. He would use heat as the name only of the sensa- 
tion of heat, and tree as the name of the outward object, or 
cluster of sensations ; and if he had occasion to speak of the 
idea, he would say, my idea (or the idea) of heat ; my idea 
(or the idea) of a tree. — Ed. 



k 



S«CT. I.] NOUNS SUBSTANTIVE. 141 

applicable to a state of mind, of which the instances 
form a class.* In like manner, courage is the name of 
a class; temperance, ignorance, piety, and so on, 
names of classes. Bepublic, aristocracy, monarchy, 
are names, each of them, not of an individual govern- 
ment, a government at one time and place, but of a 
class, a sort of government, at any time and place. 

The names of the ideas which are thus mentally 
clustered, are exempt from that ambiguity which we 
saw belonged to the names of both classes of sensible 
ideas. The names of sensible ideas generally stand 
for the sensations as well as the ideas. The names of 
the mental ideas are not transferable to sensations. 
But they are subject to another uncertainty, still 
more fertile in confusion, and embarrassment. 

As the combinations are formed arbitrarily, or in 
other words, as the ideas of which they are composed, 
are more or less numerous, according to pleasure, and 
each man of necessity forms his own combination, it 
very often happens, that one man includes something 
more or something less than another man in the 
combination to which they both give the same name. 
Using the same words, they have not exactly the 
same ideas. In the term piety, for example, a good 
catholic includes many things which are not included 
in it by a good protestant. In the term good 
manners, an Englishman of the present day does not 
include the same ideas which were included in it by 
an Englishman two centuries ago ; still less those 
which are included in it by foreigners of habits and 
usages dissimilar to our own. Prudence, in the mind 
of a man of rank and fortune, has a very different 
meaning from what it bears in the minds of the 




142 NAMING. [chap. IY. 

frugal and industrious poor. Under this uncertainty 
in language, it not only happens that men are often 
using the same expressions when they have diflTerent 
ideas ; but different, when they have the same ideas.** 



^ There is some need for additional elucidation of the class 
of complex ideas distinguished (under the name of Mixed 
Modes) by Locke, and recognised by the author of the 
Analysis, as " put together in a great degree at our discretion ;" 
as " those which the mind forms arbitrarily," so that " the 
ideas of which they are composed are more or less numerous 
according to pleasure, and each man of necessity forms bis 
own combination." From these and similar phrases, inter* 
preted literally, it might be supposed that in the instances 
given, a centaur, a mountain of gold, comfort, meanness, fear, 
courage, temperance, ignorance, republic, aristocracy, monarch y, 
piety, good manners, prudence — the elements which constitute 
these several complex ideas are put together premeditatedly^ 
by an act of will, which each individual performs for himself, 
and of which he is conscious. This, however, happens only 
in cases of invention, or of what is called creative imagina- 
tion. A centaur and a mountain of gold are inventions : 
combinations intentionally made, at least on the part of the 
first inventor ; and are not copies or likenesses of any com- 
bination of impressions received by the senses, nor are sup- 
posed to have any such outward phenomena corresponding to 
them. But the other ideas mentioned in the text, those of 
courage, temperance, aristocracy, monarchy, &c., are supposed 
to have real originals outside our thoughts. These ideas, just 
as much as those of a horse and a tree, are products of gene- 
ralization and abstraction : they are believed to be ideas of 
certain points or features in which a number of the clusters of 
sensations which we call real objects agree : and instead of 
being formed by intentionally putting together simple ideas, 
they are formed by stripping off, or rather, by not attending to, 
such of the simple sensations or ideas entering into the 



SECT. I.] NOUNS SUBSTANTIVE. 143 

clusters as are peculiar to auy of them, and establishing an 
extremely close association among those which are common to 
them all. These complex ideas, therefore, are not, in reality, 
like the creations of mere imagination, put together at dis- 
cretion, any more than the complex ideas, compounded of the 
obvious sensible qualities of objects, which we call our ideas 
of the objects. They are formed in the same manner as these, 
only not so rapidly or so easily, since the particulars of which 
they are composed do not obtrude themselves upon the senses, 
but suppose a perception of qualities and sequences not im- 
mediately obvious. From this circumstance results the con- 
sequence noticed by the author, that this class of complex 
ideas are often of different composition in different persons. 
For, in the first place, different persons abstract their ideas of 
this sort from different individual instances; and secondly, 
some persons abstract much better than others ; that is, take 
more accurate notice of the obscurer features of instances, 
and discern more correctly what are those in which all the 
instances agree. This important subject will be more fully 
entered into when we reach that part of the present work 
which treats of the ideas connected with General Terms. 
—Ed. 



144 NAMING. [chap. IV. 



SECTION II. 



NOUNS ADJECTIVE. 



As the purpose of language is to denote sensations 
and ideas ; to mark them for our own use, or to gire 
indication of them to our fellow men ; it is obvious 
that the names of sensations and ideas are the funda- 
mental parts of language. But as ideas are very 
numerous, and the limits of the human memory admit 
the use of only a limited number of marks or names, 
various contrivances are employed to make one name 
serve as many purposes as possible. 

Of the contrivances for making the use of each 
word as extensive as possible, we have already ad- 
verted to one of great Importance ; that of arranging 
ideas in classes, and making one name stand for each 
individual of the class. When the classes are large, 
one word or mark serves to name or indicate many 
individuals. 

But when, for the sake of economizing names, those 
classes have been made as large as possible, we often 
find occasion for breaking them down into smaller 
parcels, or sub-classes, and speaking of these sub- 
classes by themselves. 

An example will render what is here expressed 
sufficiently plain. The term sound, is the name of a 
large class of ideas or sensations ; for it is equally 
the name of both ; the sound of thunder, the sound 
of a cannon, the whistling of the wind, the voice of a 
man, the howling of a dog, and so on. 



SECT, II.] NOUN 8 ADJECTIVE. 145 

Among these sounds I perceive differences ; some 
affect me in one way, and I wish to mark them as 
doing so ; some affect me in another way, and I wish 
to mark them as affecting me in that particular 
way. 

It is obvious that names might be invented for 
these subordinate classes, to mark such of them as we 
have occasion to mark ; and the cases are numerous, 
in which this is the expedient adopted. Thus the 
term animal is the name of a large class. But we 
have occasion to speak apart of various portions of 
this class, to all the more important of which portions, 
we have given particular names. Horse is the name 
of one portion, man of another, sheep of another, and 
80 of the rest. 

There is, however, another mode of naming subor- 
dinate classes ; a mode by which the use of names is 
greatly economized, and of which the utility is there- 
fore conspicuous. 

The subordinate class is distinguished from the 
rest of the greater class by some peculiarity, some- 
thing in which the individuals of it agree with one 
another, and do not agree with the rest. Thus to 
recur to the example of sound. One set of sounds 
affect me in a certain way, a way peculiar to that set. 
Wishing to distinguish these sounds from others by a 
mark, I call them loud. Another set of sounds affect 
me in another way, and I call them low ; a third set in 
another way, and I call them Aars/i ; a fourth in another 
way, and I call them sweet. By means of those ad- 
jectives applied as marks upon the mark of the great 
class, I have the names of four species, or sub-classes ; 
1, loud sounds ; 2, low sounds ; 3, harsh sounds ; 4, 

VOL. I. L 



146 NAMING. [chap. TV. 

sweet sounds; and the number might be greatly 
enlarged. 

It thus appears that, as nouns substantive are 
marks of ideas, or sensations, nouns adjective are 
marks put upon nouns substantive, or marks upon 
marks ; in order to limit the signification of the noun 
substantive ; and instead of its marking a large class, 
to make it mark a subdivision of that class. Thus the 
word, rose, is the mark of a large class : apply to it 
the adjective yellow, that is, put the mark yellow upon 
the mark rose, and you have the name, yellow rose, 
which is a sub-division, or species, of the class Bose. 

This peculiarity of naming, this putting of marks 
upon marks, in order to modify the meaning of a cer- 
tain mark, is a contrivance which deserves the greatest 
attention. It is one of the principal expedients for 
the great purpose of economizing names, and perform- 
ing the business of marking with the smallest number 
of marks; but, like the rest of the contrivances for 
this purpose, it contributes to obscure the simple 
process of naming ; and when not distinctly known 
and attended to, operates as a source of confasion and 
error. 

The use of adjectives, in economizing names, is 
most conspicuous, in the case of those subdivisions 
which apply to the greatest number of classes. There 
is one distinction which applies to most classes ; the 
distinction between what pleases, and what does 
not please us, no matter on what account. The first 
we call good, the second evil. These two terms serve 
to mark a very great number of subordinate classes, 
and, of course, save, to a great extent, the multiplica- 
tion of names. 



SECT. II.] NOUNS ADJECTIVE. 147 

Thus, in the case of the senses, we have the word 
taste, the mark of one great class of sensations. 
Tastes we divide into sub-classes by the words good 
and evil; good tastes being one class, bad tastes 
another. If we had invented separate marks for each 
of these two classes, we should have had three names, 
to mark the class taste with these its two primary 
subdivisions; and we should have had occasion for 
the same number of names in the case of each of the 
five senses ; or, fifteen different names. But the ad- 
jectives, good, and evil, they being applicable to all 
the senses, save us the invention of names for the sub- 
classes of the other four senses ; as we say good smells, 
bad smells, in the same manner as good tastes, and 
bad tastes. They save, therefore, eight names out of 
fifteen, or more than one-half. 

The economizing power of adjectives is still more 
remarkable, when we depart from simple sensations 
and ideas, and apply them as marks upon the names 
of the complex, which are far more numerous. Thus, 
the term horse is the mark of a complex idea, 
and the name of a class of objects. We say good 
horse and bad horse, good dog and bad dog, good 
house and bad house, and so in cases without number ; 
in each of which, the repetition of the two adjectives, 
good, and bad, saves us the use and embarrassment of 
separate names. 

It deserves to be remarked, that the terms good 
and evil apply much more generally to that class of 
complex ideas, in the formation of which the mind 
has but little control ; namely, those of external ob- 
jects; than they do to the other class of complex 
ideas which the mind makes up in an arbitrary man- 

l2 



148 NAMING. [chap. it. 

ner to suit its own convenience. Ideas of the latter 
description are very often made up according to the 
distinction of good and evil. Thus, the idea glory, 
is composed of ingredients all of which belong to the 
classes, good; and the idea good, is multifariously 
included in the name. After the same manner, the 
idea of evil is multifariously included in the complex 
idea disgrace. Good is implied in the term virtue, 
evil in the term vice ; good is implied in the term 
wealth, evil in the term poverty ; good is implied in 
the term power, evil in the term weakness. In some 
cases, the ideas of this class are so general, that good 
and evil are both included ; and, in such cases, adjec- 
tives are necessary to mark the subdivisions or species. 
Thus, we say good manners, bad manners; good 
sense, bad sense ; good conduct, bad conduct ; and 
so on. 

Next to the adjectives which form the numerous 
sub-classes of good and evil, those which mark degrees 
are of the most extensive application, and in the ope- 
ration of sub-marking save the greatest number of 
names. Thus the terms, great, and little, are appli- 
cable to a great proportion of the marks of complex 
ideas of both formations. We say a great tree, a 
little tree ; a great man, a little man ; a great crime, 
a small crime; great blame, little blame; great 
honour, little honour ; great value, little value ; great 
weight, little weight ; great strength, little strength, 
and so on. 

Diflferent adjectives differ in the number of classes 
to the subdivision of which they are subservient. 
Thus hot and cold are only applicable where diversi- 
ties of temperature are included ; round, square, and 



i 



8BCT. n.] NOUNS ADJECTIVE. 149 

80 on, where figure is included ; white or black, 
where colour ; and so on. 

Beside the use of adjectives, in dividing great 
classes into smaller ones, without multiplication of 
names ; they sometimes answer another purpose. It 
often happens that, in the cluster of sensations or 
ideas which have one name ; we have occasion to call 
attention particularly to some one ingredient of the 
cluster. Adjectives render this service, as well as 
that of marking a class. This rose, I say, is red ; 
that rose is yellow : this stone is hot, that stone is 
cold. The term, red rose, or yellow rose, is the name 
of a class. But when I say, this rose is red, where 
an individual is named, I mark emphatically the 
specific difference ; namely, red, or yellow ; which 
constitutes that subdivision of the genus rose, to 
which the individual belongs.^ 

** In the concluding paragraph we find the first recognition 
by the author that class names serve any purpose, or are in- 
troduced for any reason, except to save multiplication of names. 
Adjectives, it is here said, answer also the purpose of calling 
attention to some one ingredient of the cluster of sensations 
combined under one name. That is to say, they enable us to 
affirm that the cluster contains that ingredient : for they do not 
merely call attention to the ingredient, or remind the hearer of 
it : the hearer, very often, did not know that the cluster con- 
tained the ingredient, until he was apprised by the proposition. 

But surely it is not only adjectives which fulfil either oflBce, 
whether of giving information of an ingredient, or merely fixing 
the attention upon it. All general names do so, when used as 
predicates When I say that a distant object which I am 
pointing at is a tree, or a building, I just as much call atten- 
tion to certain ingredients in the cluster of sensations con- 
stituting the object, as I do when I say. This rose is red. So 



150 NAMING. [chap. IV. 

far is it from being true that adjectives are distinguished from 
substantives by having this function in addition to that of 
economizing names, that it is, on the contrary, much more 
nearly true of adjectives than of the class-names which are 
nouns substantive, that the economizing of names is the prin- 
cipal motive for their institution. For though general names 
of some sort are indispensable to predication, adjectives are 
not. As is well shewn in the text, the peculiarity, which really 
distinguishes adjectives from other general names, is that they 
mark cross divisions. All nature having first been marked 
out into classes by means of nouns substantive, we might go 
on by the same means subdividing each class. We might call 
the large individuals of a class by one noun substantive and 
the small ones by another, and these substantives would serve 
all purposes of predication ; but to do this we should need just 
twice as many additional nouns substantive as there are classes 
of objects. Since, however, the distinction of large and small 
applies to all classes alike, one pair of names will suffice to 
designate it. Instead therefore of dividing every class into 
sub-classes, each with its own name, we draw a line across 
all the classes, dividing all nature into large things and small, 
and by using these two words as adjectives, that is, by adding 
one or other of them as the occasion requires to every noun 
substantive which is the name of a class, we are able to mark 
universally the distinction of large and small by two names 
only, instead of many millions. — Ed. 



SECT. III.] VERBS. 151 



SECTION III. 



VERBS. 



1. There is one ckss of complex ideas^ of so parti- 
cular a nature, and of which we have so frequent 
occasion to speak, that the means of sub-dividing 
them require additional contrivances. Marks put 
upon marks are still the instrument. But the instru- 
ment, to render it more effectual to this particular 
purpose, is fashioned in a particular way. I allude to 
the class of words denominated Verbs ; which are, 
in their essence, adjectives, and applied as marks 
upon marks ; but receive a particular form, in order 
to render them, at the same time, subservient to other 
purposes. 

The mode of their marking, and the peculiarity 
of their marking power may easily, I hope, be thus 
conceived. 

A billiard-ball affects my senses, in a particular 
manner. On account of this, I call it round ; and 
the term round is ever after a mark to me of a portion 
of the sensations which I derive from it. It affects 
me in another manner. I call it on that account 
white, and the term white is to me a mark of this 
other mode in which it affects me : and in the same 
manner as I call it white, round, on account of such 
and such sensations, I call it Moving, on account of 
certain other sensations, of which the term Moving is 
to me a perpetual mark. 



152 NAMING. [chap. IV. 

Tlie manner of affecting me on account of which I 
call it moving, I learn from experience to be peculiarly 
entitled to my regard. I find that it is a mode of 
affecting me, which belongs to almost all bodies ; and 
I find that upon this attribute of theirs the greatest 
part of my interesting sensations depend. I am there- 
fore deeply concerned in the knowledge of motions ; 
and have the strongest inducement to divide them into 
such classes as may in the highest degree facilitate 
that knowledge. 

Motions are divided in a great variety of ways for a 
variety of purposes. Sometimes we divide them ac- 
cording to their subjects. Thus, the motion of a bird 
is one class of motions ; the motion of a horse another ; 
so the motion of a serpent, the motion of an arrow, 
the motion of a wheel. At other times we form 
classes of motions according to the manner. Thus we 
have running, flying, rolling, leaping, staggering, 
throwing, striking, and so on. 

Of all the classifications of motions, however, that 
which deserves the greatest attention is the distinction 
of them into the motions which originate within the 
moving body, and those which originate without it. 
Of the motions which originate within the moving 
body, the principal are the living motions of animals. 
We find, also, that of all the motions of animals, those 
of men are the most important to men. The motions 
of men are divided into a great number of classes. 
On account of one set of motions we call a man walk- 
ing ; on account of another sort we call him running ; 
another, writing ; another, dancing ; another, fencing ; 
another, boxing ; another, building ; and so on. We 
have also frequent occasion for a name which shaU em- 



8BCT. III.] VERBS. 153 

brace all these motions of men. For this purpose the 
word Acting is employed : and the term Action de- 
notes any of the motions, which originate within a 
man as the moving body. It is no objection to this 
account of the use of the word action, that it is some- 
times employed in cases in which the motion is not 
the principal object of attention ; as in the act of 
singing, or that of speaking. Here, though it is not 
the motion, but the effect of the motion, which is the 
object of attention to the hearer, the act of the singer 
or speaker is not the less truly a motion. 

The word action, when thus invented, and used, is 
afterwards applied metaphorically to motions which do 
not originate in the moving body, as when we say the 
action of a sword ; and also to certain processes of 
the mind, which, as they are accompanied with the 
feeling we call effort, resembling that which accom- 
panies the voluntary motions, are sometimes classed 
along with them, and, by an extension of the meaning 
of the word, receive the name of actions. In this 
manner, remembering, computing, comparing, even 
hearing, and seeing, are denominated actions. 

2. In applying the term Acting, or the terms ex- 
pressive of the several kinds of acting, the Time of 
the action is a material circumstance. The grand 
divisions of time are the Past, the Present, and the 
Future. There is great utility in a short method of 
marking these divisions of time in conjunction with 
the mark of the action. This is effected by the Tenses 
of Verbs. 

8. When the name of an act is applied to an agent, 
the agent is either the person speaking, the person 
spoken to, or some other person. The word denoting 



154 NAMING. [chap. it. 

the action is, by what are called the Persons of the 
verb, made to connote these diversities. Thus amo 
notes the act, and connotes the person speaking as the 
actor ; amas notes the act, and connotes the person 
spoken to, as the actor ; amat notes the act, and con- 
notes some person, as the actor, who is neither the 
person speaking, nor the person spoken to.^ 

4. When the names of actions are applied to agents, 
they are applied to one or a greater number. A short 
method of connoting this grand distinction of num- 
bers is eflfected by the marks of the Singular and Plural 
number. Thus amo notes the act, and connotes one 
actor ; amamm notes the act, and connotes more than 
one actor. 

5. In applying the names of actions to the proper 
subjects of them, there are three Modes of the action, 
one or other of which is always implied. The first is, 
when the action has no reference to any thing pre- 
viously spoken of. The second is, when it has a reference 
to something previously spoken of. The third is, 
when it has a reference to some state of the will of 

^ There is here a fresh instauce of the oversight already 
pointed out, that of not including in the function for which 
general names are required, their employment in Predication. 
Amo, amas, and amamus, cannot, 1 conceive, with any pro- 
priety be called names of actions, or names at all. They are 
entire predications. It is one of the properties of the kind of 
general names called verbs, that they cannot be used except in 
a Proposition or Predication, and indeed only as the predicate 
of it : (for the infinitive is not a verb, but the abstract of a 
verb). What else there is to distinguish verbs from other 
general names will be more particularly considered further 
on. — Ki. 



8BCT. III.] VERBS. 155 

the speaker or person spoken of. These diversities of 
mode are connoted by the Moods of the verb. The 
Indicative is used when no reference is made to any 
thing which precedes: the Subjunctive, when a 
reference is made to something which precedes : and 
the Optative, and Imperative, when the reference is to 
the state of the will of the speaker or the person 
spoken of. 

Such are the contrivances to make the marks or 
names of action, by their connotative powers, a more 
and more effectual instrument of notation. Accu- 
rately speaking, they are adjectives, so fashioned as to 
connote, a threefold distinction of agents, with a two- 
fold distinction of their number, a threefold distinc- 
tion of the manner of the action, and a threefold 
distinction of its time ; and, along with all this, 
another important particular, about to be explained, 
namely, the copula in predication.*' 

^ The imperfection of this theory of Verbs is suflBciently 
apparent. They are, says the author, a particular kind of Ad- 
jectives. Adjectives, according to the preceding Section, are 
words employed to enable us, without inconvenient multipli- 
cation of names, to subdivide great classes into smaller ones. 
Can it be said, or would it have been said by the author, that 
the only, or the principal reason for having Verbs, is to enable 
us to subdivide classes of objects with the greatest economy of 
names ? 

Neither is it strictly accurate to say that Verbs are always 
marks of motion, or of action, even including, as the author 
does, by an extension of the meaning of those terms, every 
process which is attended with a feeling of effort Many verbs, 
of the kind which grammarians call neuter or intransitive 
verbs, express rest, or inaction : as sit, lie, and in some cases, 
stand. It is true however that the verbs first invented, as 



156 NAMING. [chap. IV. 

6. We have, last of all, nnder this head, to consider 
the marking power of a very peeuUar, and most com- 
prehensive word, the substantive verb, as it has been 
called by grammarians, or the word expressive of 
being. The steps, which we have already traced, in 
the process of naming, will aid ns in obtaining a true 
conception of this, which is one of the most important 
steps, in that process. 

We have seen that, beside the names of particular 
species of motions, as walking, running, flying, there 
was occasion for a general name which might include 

far as we know anything of them, expressed forms of motion, 
and the principal function of verbs still is to affirm or deny 
action. Or, to speak yet more generally, it is by means of 
verbs that we predicate events. Events, or changes, are the 
most important facts, to us, in the surrounding world. Verbs 
are the resource which language affords for predicating events. 
They are not the names of events ; all names of events ar^ 
substantives, as sunrise, disaster, or infinitives^ as to fise^ and 
infinitives are logically substantives. But it is by means of 
verbs that we assert, or give information of, events ; as. The 
sun rises, or, Disaster has occurred. There is, however, a 
class of neuter verbs already referred to, which do not predi- 
cate events, but states of an unchanging object, as lie, sit, re- 
main, exist It would be incorrect, therefore, to give a defi- 
nition of Verbs which should limit them to the expression of 
events. I am inclined to think that the distinction between 
nouns and verbs is not logical, but merely grammatical, and 
that every word, whatever be its meaning, must be reputed a 
verb, which is so constructed grammatically that it can only be 
used as the predicate of a proposition. Any meaning what- 
ever is, in strictness, capable of being thrown into this form : 
but it is only certain meanings, chiefly actions or events, which 
there is, in general, any motive for putting into this particular 
shape. — -Ed. 



8SCT. III.] VERBS. 157 

the whole of those motions. For this purpose, the 
names Action and Acting were employed. It is now 
to be remembered, that those sensations which we 
mark by the names of action, as walking, running, 
&c., are but part of the sensations which we derive 
from objects; that we have other sensations, and 
clusters of sensations, from them, on account of which 
we apply to them other names ; as when we call a 
man tall, on account of certain sensations ; dark, on 
accoimt of certain other sensations, and so on. Now, 
as we had occasion for a name to include the separate 
dusters, called walking, running, flying, rolling, Ml- 
ing, and so on, and for that purpose adopted the 
name Acting ; so, having from objects other sensa- 
tions than those marked by the word acting, we have 
occasion for a name which shall include both those 
sensations, and those comprehended in the word acting 
along with them : in short, a word that shall embrace 
all sensations, of whatever kind, which any object is 
capable of exciting in us. This purpose is effected by 
the word afl&rmative of Existence. When we affirm 
of any thing that it exists, that it is : what we mean, 
is, that we may have sensations from it; nothing, 
without ourselves, being known to us, or capable of 
being known, but through the medium of our senses. 
There is the same occasioD for making the Substan- 
tive Verb connote the three distinctions of time past, 
TIME present, and time future, as in the case of 
other verbs ; also to connote the distinctions of 
persons and numbers; and, lastly, to connote the 
THREE modes, that in which there is no reference to 
any thing preceding, that in which there is a reference 
to something preceding, and that in which reference 



158 NAMING. [chap. IV. 

is made to the will of one of the persons. Accord- 
ingly the Substantive Verb has tenses, moods, num- 
bers, and PERSONS, like any other verb. 

Such is the nature and object of the Substantive 
Verb. It is the most generical of all the words, 
which we have characterized, as marks upon marks. 
These are the words usually called attributives. 
According to the view which we have given of them, 
they may be more appropriately denominated, se- 
condary MARKS. The names of the larger classes, as 
tree, horse, strength, we may call primary marks. 
The subsidiary names by which smaller classes are 
marked out of the larger ; as when we say, tall tree, 
great strength, running horse, walking man ; that is, 
all attributives, or marks applied upon marks; we 
may call secondary marks. 



MCT. IV.] PREDICATION. 159 



SECTION IV. 



PREDICATION. 



The purposes of language are two. We have occa- 
sion to mark sensations or ideas singly ; and we have 
occasion to mark them in trains ; in other words, we 
have need of contrivances to mark not only sensations 
and ideas ; but also the order of them. The contri- 
vances which are necessary to mark this order are the 
main cause of the complexity of language. 

If all names were names of one sort, there would 
be no difficulty in marking a train of the feelings 
which they serve to denote. Thus, if all names were 
names of individuals, as John, James, Peter, we should 
have no difficulty in marking a train of the ideas of 
these individuals ; all that would be necessary would 
be to set down the marks, one after another, in the 
same order in which, one ailer another, the ideas 
occurred. 

If all names were names of Species, as man, horse, 
eagle, the facility of marking the order of the ideas 
which they represent would be the same. If the idea 
man occurred first, the idea horse second, the idea 
eagle third ; all that would be necessary would be to 
put down the name or mark man the first, the name 
or mark horse the second, and the order of marks 
would represent the order of ideas. 

But we have already seen, that the facility of com- 
munication requires names of different degrees of 



\ 



160 NAMING. [chap. IV. 

comprehensiveness; names of individuals, names of 
classes, and names both of the larger and the smaller 
classes. For the younger and less instructed part of 
my readers, it may be necessary to mention, that the 
names of the smaller classes, are called names of 
Species, or specific names; the names of the larger 
classes, names of Genera, or generic names. Thus, 
the term animal, denotes a large class ; a class which 
contains the smaller classes, man, horse, dog, &c. The 
name animal, therefore, is called a Genus, or a generic 
name ; the name man, a Species, or a specific name. 

In using names of these different kinds ; names of 
individuals, when the idea is restricted to one indi- 
vidual ; and, for brevity, the names of classes ; the 
names of the less when necessary, of the large when 
practicable ; there is perpetual need of the substitution 
of one name for another. When I have used the names, 
James and John, Thomas and William, and many 
more, having to speak of such peculiarities of each, as 
distinguish him from every other, I may proceed to 
speak of them in general, as included in a class. 
When this happens, I have occasion for the name of 
the class, and to substitute the name of the class, for 
the names of the individuals. By what contrivance 
is this performed ? I have the name of the individual, 
John ; and the name of the class man ; and I can set 
down my two names; Jolin^ man, in juxta-position. 
But this is not sufficient to effect the communication 
I desire ; namely, that the word man is a mark of the 
same idea of which John is a mark, and a mark of 
other ideas along with it, those, to wit, of which James, 
Thomas, &c. are marks. To complete my contrivance, 
I invent a mark, which, placed between my marks. 



«BCT. IV.] PRKUICATION. 161 

John and man, fixes the idea I mean to convey, that 
tnan^ is another mark to that idea of which John is a 
mark, while it is a mark of the other ideas, of which 
James, Thomas, &c., are marks. For this purpose, we 
use in English, the mark " is/' By help of this, my 
object is immediately attained. I say, John " is" a 
man. I, then, use the word man, instead of the word 
John, with many advantages; because every thing 
which I can affirm of the word man, is true not only 
of John, but of James, and Peter, and every other 
individual of the class. 

The joining of two names by this peculiar mark, is 
the act which has been denominated, predication ; 
and it is the grand contrivance by which the marks 
of sensations and ideas are so ordered in discourse, as 
to mark the order of the trains, which it is our purpose 
to communicate, or to record. 

The form of ezpressicfn, '' John is a man," is called 
a Proposition. It consists of three marks. Of these, 
"John," is denominated the subject; "man," the 
PRKDiCATE^ and "is," the copula. To speak gene- 
rally, and in the language of the grammarians, the 
nominative of the verb is the subject of the proposition ; 
the substantive, or adjective, which agrees with the 
nominative, is the predicate, and the verb is the copula. 

By a few simple examples, the reader may render 
familiar to himself the use of predication, as the grand 
expedient, by which language is enabled to mark not 
only sensations and ideas, but also the order of them.* 

*® The theory of Predication here set forth, stands in need 
of farther elucidation, and perhaps of some correction and 
tddiiion. 

The account which the aathor gives of a Predication, or Fro* 

VOL. I. M 



162 NAMING, [chap, it* 

For the more complete elucidation of this important 
part of the business of Naming, it is necessary to 

position^ is, first, that it is a mode of so putting together the 
marks of seDsations and ideas, as to mark the order of them* 
Secondly, that it consists in substituting one name for another, 
so as to signify that a certain name (called the predicate), is a 
mark of the same idea which another name (called the suhject) 
is a mark of. 

It must be allowed that a predication, or proposition, is in- 
tended to mark some portion of the order either of our sensa- 
tions or of our ideas, i.e., some part of the coexistences or 
sequences which take place either in our minds, or in what we 
term the external world. But what sort of order is it that a 
predication marks ? An order supposed to be believed in. 
When John, or man, are said to be marks of an individual ob- 
ject, all there is in the matter is that these words, being asso- 
ciated witii the idea of the object, are intended to raise that 
idea in the mind of the person who hears or reads them. But 
when we say, John is a man, or, John is an old man, we in- 
tend to do more than call up in the hearer's mind the images 
of John, of a man, and of an old man. We intend to do more 
than inform him that we have thought of, or even seen, John 
and a man, or John and an old man, together. We inform him 
of a fact respecting John, namely, that he is an old man, or at 
all events, of our belief that this is a fact. The characteristic 
difference between a predication and any other form of speech, 
is, that it does not merely bring to mind a certain object 
(which is the only function of a mark, merely as such) ; it 
asserts something respecting it. Now it may be true, and I 
think it is true, that every assertion, every object of Belief, — 
everything that can be true or false — that can be an object of 
assent or dissent — is some order of sensations or of ideas : some 
coexistence or succession of sensations or ideas actually ex- 
perienced, or supposed capable of being experienced. And 
thus it may appear in the end that in expressing a belief, we 
ai'e aft^r all only declaring the order of a group or series of 



k 



8SCT, IV.] PREDICATION. 163 

remark, that Logicians have classed Predications, 
under five heads ; 1st, when the Genu8 is predicated, 

sensations or ideas. But the order which we declare is not 
an imaginary order ; it is an order believed to be real. Whatever 
view we adopt of the psychological nature of Belief, it is neces- 
sary to distinguish between the mere suggestion to the mind 
of a certain order among sensations or ideas — such as takes 
place when we think of the alphabet, or the numeration table 
— and the indication that this order is an actual fact, which is 
occurring, or which has occurred once or ofbener, or which, in 
certain definite circumstances, always occurs ; which are the 
things indicated as true by an affirmative predication, and as 
false by a negative one. 

That a predication differs from a name in doing more than 
merely calling up an idea, is admitted in what I have noted as 
the second half of the author's theory of Predication. That 
second half points out that every predication is a communica- 
tion, intended to act, not on the mere ideas of the listener, but 
on his persuasion or belief: and what he is intended to be- 
lieve, according to the author, is, that of the two names which 
are conjoined in the predication, one is a mark of the same 
idea (or let me add, of the same sensation or cluster of sensa- 
tions) of which the other is a mark. This is a doctrine of 
Hobbes, the one which caused him to be termed by Leibnitz, 
in words which have been often quoted, " plus quam nomi- 
nalis." It is quite true that when we predicate B of A — when 
vre assert of A that it is a B — B must, if the assertion is true, 
be a name of A, i.e., a name applicable to A ; one of the innu- 
merable names which, in virtue of their signification, can be 
used as descriptive of A : but is this the information which we 
want to convey to the hearer ? It is so when we are speaking 
only of names and their meaning, as when we enunciate a de- 
finition. In every other case, what we want to convey is a 
matter of fact, of which this relation between the names is but 
an incidental consequence. When we say, John walked out 
this morning, it is not a correct expression of the communica- 

M 2 



164 NAMING. [chap. !▼• 

of any subject ; 2dly, when the Species is predicated ; 
3dly, when the Specific Difference is predicated ; 4thly, 

lion we desire to make, that '' having walked out this morn- 
ing" or " a person who has walked out this morning" are two 
of the innumerable names of John. They are only acciden- 
tally and momentarily names of John by reason of a certain 
event, and the information we mean to give is, that this event 
has happened. The event is not resolvable into an identity 
of meaning between names, but into an actual series of sensa- 
tions that occurred to John, and a belief that any one who had 
been present and using his eyes would have had another series 
of sensations, which we call seeing John in the act of walking 
out. Again, when we say, Negroes are woolly-haired, we mean 
to make known to the hearer, not that woolly-haired is a name 
of every negro, but that wherever the cluster of sensations sig- 
nified by the word negro, are experienced, the sensations signi- 
fied by the word woolly-haired will be found either among 
them or conjoined with them. This is an order of sensations : 
and it is only in consequence of it that the name woolly-haired 
comes to be applicable to every individual of whom the term 
negro is a name. 

There is nothing positively opposed to all this in the author's 
text : indeed he must be considered to have meant this, when 
he said, that by means of substituting one name for another, 
a predication marks the order of our sensations and ideas. The 
omission consists in not remarking that what is distinctively 
signified by a predication, as such, is Belief in a certain order 
of sensations or ideas. And when this has been said» the 
Hobbian addition, that it does so by declaring the predicate to 
be a name of everything of which the subject is a name, may 
be omitted as surplusage, and as diverting the mind firom the 
essential features of the case. Predication may thus be de- 
fined, a form of speech which expresses a belief that a certain 
coexistence or sequence of sensations or ideas, did, does, or, 
under certain conditions, would take place : and the reverse of 
this when the predication is negative. — Ed. 



k 



MCT. IT.] PREDICATION. 165 

when a Property is predicated ; 5thly, when an Acci- 
dent is predicated. These five classes of names, the 
things capable of being predicated, are named predi- 
CABLES. The five Predicables, in Latin, the language 
in which they are commonly expressed, are named 
GenuSy Species^ Differentia, Proprium, Jccidens. 

We have already seen, perhaps at sufficient length, 
the manner in which, and the end for which, the 
Genus, and the Species are predicated of any subject. 
It is, that the more comprehensive name, may be sub- 
stituted for the less comprehensive ; so that each of 
our marks may answer the purpose of marking, to as 
great an extent as possible. In this manner we substi- 
tute the word man, for example, for the word Tliomas, 
when we predicate the Species of the individual, in the 
proposition, "Thomas is a man;" the word animal, 
for the word man, when we predicate the Genus of the 
Species, in the proposition, " man, is an animal."* 

^ If what has been said in the preceding note is correct, it 
is a Tery inadequate view of the parpose for which a generic or 
specific name is predicated of any subject, to say that it is in 
order that " the more comprehensive name may be substituted 
for the less comprehensive, so that each of our marks may 
answer the purpose of marking to as great an extent as pos- 
sible." The more comprehensive and the less comprehensive 
name have each their uses, and the function of each not only 
coiild not be discharged with equal convenience by the other, 
but could not be discharged by it at all. The purpose, in pre- 
dicating of anything the name of a class to which it belongs, is 
not to obtain a better or more commodious name for it, but to 
make known the fact of its possessing the attributes which con- 
stitute the class, and which are therefore signified by the class- 
name. It is evident that the name of one class cannot possibly 
perform this office vicariously for the name of another. — Ki. 



166 NAMING. [cHAP.nr. 

We have already, also, taken notice of the artifice, 
by which smaller classes are formed out of larger, by 
the help of secondary marks. Of these secondary 
marks, the principal classes are designated by the 
terms Differentia, Propriuniy Accidens. No very dis- 
tinct boundaries, are, indeed, marked by these terms ; 
nor do they effect a scientific division ; but, for the 
present purpose, the elucidation of the end to which 
Predication is subservient, they are sufficient. 

Differentia is always an Attributive, applicable to a 
Genus, and which, when combined with it, marks out 
a Species ; as the word rational, which is applicable 
to the Genus animal, and when applied to it, in the 
phrase " rational animal,'' marks out a Species, and 
is synonymous with the word man. In a similar 
manner the word sensitive is applicable to body, and 
marks out the subordinate Genus, animal. 

Proprium is also an Attributive, and the Attribu- 
tives classed under this title differ from those classed 
under the title differentia, chiefly in this ; That those 
classed under differentia, are regarded as more ex- 
pressly involved in the definition of the Species which 
they seem to cut out from the Genus. Thus, both 
rational, and risible, when applied to animal, cut out of 
it the class Man ; but rational is called differentia, 
risible proprium, because rational, is strictly involved 
in the definition of man ; risible is not. Some Attri- 
butives are classed under the title proprium, which, 
when applied to the genus, do not constitute the same 
Species, constituted by the differentia, but a different 
Species ; as bipes, two-footed animal, is the name of 
a class including at least the two classes of men, and 
birds; hot-blooded animal, is the name of a class so 



k 



8KCT. IV.] PREDICATION. 167 

large as to include man, horse, lion» dog, and the 
greater part of the more perfectly organized Species. 
There are some Attributives, classed under the title 
propriuMy which cut out of the Genus a class even less 
than that which is cut by the differentia ; as, for ex- 
ample, the word grammatical. This word grammatical, 
applied to the word animal, in the term " grammatical 
animal,'' separates a class so small, as to include only 
part of the Species man, those who are called Gram- 
marians. Such Attributives, for an obvious reason, 
are applicable, as well to the name of the Species, as 
to that of the Grenus. Thus, we say, '' a grammatical 
man," as well as " a grammatical animal," and that 
with greater propriety, as cutting out the sub-species 
from the Species more immediately. 

The Attributives, classed under the title accident, 
are regarded, like those classed under differentia, and 
prqprium, as applicable to the class cut out by the 
differentia, but applicable to it rather fortuitously than 
by any fixed connection. The term lame is an example 
of such Attributives. The term lame, however, applied 
to the name of the Species, does not the less take out 
of it a sub-species, as " lame man," " lame horse." 

With respect to these classes of Attributives {Di/- 
ferentia, Proprium, Accident) this is necessary to be 
observed, and remembered ; that they differ from one 
another only by the accident of their application. 
Thus, when rational, applied to the Genus animal, con- 
stitutes the Species man, all other Attributives applied 
to that Species are either accidens, or proprium ; but 
these Attributives themselves may be the differentia 
in the case of other classes. Thus, warm-blooded, ap- 
plied to man^ stands under the chss proprium ,- but 



V 



1 G8 NAMING. [CHAF. IV^ 

when applied to the animals which stand distinguished 
from the cold-blooded, as constituting a class, it be- 
comes the differentia^ and rational, with respect to this 
comprehensive class, is only an accidena.^ 



^ The author says, that no very distinct boundaries are 
marked by the three terms, Differentia, Proprium, .and 
Accidens, nor do they effect a scientific division. As used, 
however, by the more accurate of the school logicians, they 
do mark out distinct boundaries, and do effect a scientific 
division. 

Of the attributes common to a class, some have been taken 
into consideration in forming the class, and are included in 
the signification of its name. Such, in the case of man, are 
rationality, and the outward form which we call the human. 
These attributes are its Differentiae ; the fundamental differ- 
ences which distinguish that class from the others most nearly 
allied to it. The school logicians were contented with one 
Differentia, whenever one was sufficient completely to circum- 
scribe the class. But this was an error, because one attribute 
may be sufficient for distinction, and yet may not exhaust the 
signification of the class-name. All attributes, then, which 
are part of that signification, are set apart as Differentiae. 
Other attributes, though not included among those which con- 
stitute the class, and which are directly signified by its name, 
are consequences of some of those which constitute the class, 
and always found along with them. These attributes of the 
class are its Propria. Thus, to be bounded by three straight 
lines is the Differentia of a triangle : to have the sum of its 
three angles equal to two right angles, being a consequence of 
its Differentia, is a Proprium of it. Rationality is a Differentia 
of the class Man : to be able to build cities is a Proprium, being 
a consequence of rationality, but not, as that is, included in 
the meaning of the word Man. All other attributes of the class, 
which are neither included in the meaning of the name, nor 
are consequences of any which are included, are Accidents^ 



SKCT, IT.] PREDICATION. 169 

We now 'arrive at a very important conclusion ; for 
it thus appears, that all Predication, is Predication of 
Genus or Species, since the Attributives classed under 
the titles of Differentia^ Proprium^ Accidena, cannot be 
used but as part of the name of a Species. But we 
have seen, above, that Predication by Genus and 
Species is merely the substitution of one name for an- 
other, the more general for the less general ; the fact 
of the substitution being marked by the Copula. It 
follows, if all Predication is by Genus and Species, 
tiiat all Predication is the substitution of one name 
for another, the more for the less general. 

It will be easy for the learner to make this material 
fact familiar to himself, by attending to a few instances. 
Thus, when it is said that man is rational, the term 
rational is evidently elliptical, and the word animal 
is understood. The word rational, according to gram- 
matical language, is an adjective, and is significant 
only in conjunction with a substantive. According 
to logical language, it is a connotative term, and is 
without a meaning when disjoined from the object, 
the property or properties of which it connotes." 

however universally and constantly they may be true of the 
class ; as blackness, of crows. 

The author's remark, that these three classes of Attributives 
differ from one another only in the accident of their applica- 
tion, is most just. There are not some attributes which are 
always Differenti®, and others which are always Propria, or 
always Accidents. The same attribute which is a Differentia 
of one genus or species, may be, and often is, a Proprium or 
an Accidens of others, and so on. — Ed, 

" I am unable to feel the force of this remark. Every pre- 
dication ascribes an attribute to a subject Differentiae, Fro^ 



170 NAMING. [CHAF. IT* 

With respect, however, to such examples as this 
last, namely, all those in which the predicate consists 

pria, and Accidents, agree with generic and specific names in 
expressing attributes, and the attributes they express are the 
whole of their meaning. I therefore cannot see why there 
should not be Predication of any of these, as well as of Genus 
and Species. These three Predicables, the author says, cannot 
be used but as part of the name of a genus or species : they 
are adjectives, and cannot be employed without a substantive 
understood. Allowing this to be logically, as it is grammati- 
cally, true, still the comprehensive and almost insignificant 
substantive, "thing" or "being," fully answers the purpose; 
and the entire meaning of the predication is contained in the 
adjective. These adjectives, as the author remarks, are con- 
notative terms ; but so, on his own shewing elsewhere, are all 
concrete substantives, except proper names. Why, when it is 
said that man is rational, must " the word animal " be " under 
stood ?" Nothing is understood but that the being, Man, has 
the attribute of reason. If we say, God is rational, is animal 
understood ? It was only the Greeks who classed their gods 
as Zwa aOavara. 

The exclusion of the three latter Predicables from predica- 
tion probably recommended itself to the author as a support to 
his doctrine that all Predication is the substitution of one name 
for another, which he considered himself to have already de- 
monstrated so far as regards Genus and Species. But proofs 
have just been given that in the predication of Genus and 
Species no more than in that of Dififerentia, Proprium, or 
Accidens, is anything which turns upon names the main con- 
sideration. Except in the case of defiuitions, and other merely 
verbal propositions, every proposition is iutended to commu- 
nicate a matter of fact : This subject has that attribute — This 
cluster of sensations is always accompanied by that sensation. 

Let me remark by the way, that the word connote is here 
used by the author in what I consider its legitimate sense^ — 
that in which a name is said to connote a property or proper- 



^ 



SECT. IV.] PREDICATION. 171 

of the genas and differentia, the proposition is a mere 
definition; and the predicate, and the subject, are 
precisely equivalent. Thus, "rational animal" is 
precisely the same class as " man ;" and they are only 
two names for the same thing ; the one a simple, or 
single-worded name ; the other a complex, or double- 
worded, name. Such propositions therefore are, pro- 
perly speaking, not Predications at all. When they 
are used for any other purpose than to make known, 
or to fix, the meaning of a term, they are useless, and 
are denominated identical propositions." 

The preceding expositions have shown the peculiar 
use of the Copula. The Predication consists, essen- 
tially, of two marks, whereof the first is called the 
Subject, the latter the Predicate ; the Predicate being 
set down as a name to be used for every thing of 
which the Subject is a name; and the Copula is 
merely a mark necessary to shew that the Predicate 
is to be taken and used as a substitute for the 
Subject. 

There is a great convenience in giving to the Copula 
the same powers of connotation, in respect of Time, 

ties belonging to the object it is predicated of. He afterwards 
casts off this use of the term, and introduces one the exact 
reverse : but of this hereafter. — Ei, 

^ In this passage the author virtually gives up the part of 
his theorv of Predication which is borrowed from Hobbes. 
According to his doctrine in this place, whenever the predicate 
and the subject are exactly equivalent, and '*are only two 
names for the same thing," the predication serves only " to 
make known, or to fix, the meaning of a term," and " such 
propositions are, properly speaking, not Predications at all." — 
Ed. 



l72 NAMING. [chap. it. 

Manner, Person, and Number, as we have seen to be 
usefully annexed to the Verb. 

It is necessary to explain a little this convenience ; 
and the explanation will have another advantage, that 
it will still farther illustrate the manner in which 
Predication serves the great purpose of marking the 
Order of ideas in a Train. 

If the sensations or ideas in a train were to be 
marked as merely so many independent items, the 
mode of marking the order of them would be simple ; 
the order of the marks itself might suffice. If this, 
for example, were the train ; smell of a rose, sight 
of a rat, sound of a trumpet, touch of velvet, prick 
of a pin, these names placed in order might denote 
the order of the sensations. 

In the greater number of instances, however, it is 
necessary to mark the train as the train of somebody ; 
and for this purpose additional machinery is required. 
Suppose that the train I have to mark is the train of 
John, a train of the sensations of John ; what are the 
marks for which I shall have occasion ? It is first of 
all evident that I must have a mark for John, and a 
mark for each of the sensations. Suppose it is my 
purpose to represent John as having a sensation by 
each of his senses, sight, smell, &c., how must I pro- 
ceed ? I have first the word John, for the mark of 
the person ; and I have the word seeing, for the mark 
of the sensation. But beside the marks, " John/* 
'' seeing,'* I have occasion for a mark to show that I 
mean the mark " seeing" to be applied to the mark 
" John," and not to any other. For that purpose I 
use the word " is." I say " John is seeing," and the 
first sensation of John's train is now sufficiently de- 



9»CT. IV.] PREDICATION. 173 

noted. In the same manner I proceed w ith the rest ; 
John is smelling, John is tasting, John is hearing, 
John is touching. 

But I have often occasion to speak not only of 
John's present sensations, but of his past or his future 
sensations ; not of John as merely now seeing, hear- 
ing, &c., but as having been, or as going to be, the 
subject of these sensations. The Copula may be so 
contrived as most commodiously to connote the main 
distinctions of Time: not merely to mark the con- 
nection between the two marks which form the subject 
and the predicate of the proposition, but to mark, 
along with this, either past, or present, or future, 
Time. Thus, if I say John is seeing, the copula 
marks present time along with the peculiar connection 
between the predicate and the subject ; if I say John 
was seeing, it connotes past time ; if I say John will 
be seeing, it connotes future time. 

As, in explaining the functions of verbs, there 
appeared a convenience in the contrivance by which 
they were made to connote three Manners ; first, when 
no reference is made to any thing which is previously 
spoken of; secondly, when a reference is made to 
something which is previously spoken of; thirdly, 
when a reference is made to the will of one of the 
PERSONS ; it wiU now be seen that th^e is the same 
convenience in making the Copula connote these re- 
ferences by a similar contrivance. Thus, when we 
speak of a man having sensations, we may speak of 
him as having them or as not having them, in conse- 
quence of something previously spoken of ; or we may 
speak of him as having them in consequence of our 
will. It is, therefore, useful, that the Copula should 



174 NAMING. [chap. IT, 

liave moods as well as tenses. The same thing may 
be said of persons and numbers ; of which no illos* 
tration seems to be required. 

We come next to an observation respecting the 
Copula, to which the greatest attention is due. In 
all Languages, the Verb which denotes existence has 
been employed to answer the additional purpose of 
the Copula in Predication. The consequences of this 
have been most lamentable. There is thus a double 
meaning in the Copula, which has produced a most 
unfoi*tunate mixture and confusion of ideas. It has 
involved in mystery the whole business of Predication ; 
the grand contrivance by which language is rendered 
competent to its end* By darkening Predication, it 
has spread such a veil over the phenomena of mind, 
as concealed them from ordinary eyes, and allowed 
them to be but imperfectly seen by those which were 
the most discerning. 

In our own language, the verb, to be, is the impor- 
tant word which is employed to connote, along with 
its Subject, whatever it be, the grand idea of exis- 
tence. Thus, if I use the first person singular of its 
indicative mood, and say, " I am," I affirm existenck 
of myself. " I am,'' is the equivalent of " I am exist- 
iN(i." In the first of these expressions, " I am," the 
mark " am" involves in it the force of two marks ; it 
involves the meaning of the word " existing,'' and the 
marking power or meaning of the Copula. In the 
second expression " I am existing," the word " am" 
ought to serve the purpose of the Copula only. But 
in reality its connotation of existence still adheres to 
it ; and whereas the expression ought to consist of the 
three established parts of a Predication ; 1, the subject 



i 



»»CT, IV.] PREDICATION. 17B 

"I;** 2, the predicate existing; and 3, the copula; it 
in reality consists of, 1, the subject " I ;" 2, the pre- 
dicate EXISTING; 3, the Copula; which signifies, 4, 
KXISTING, over again. 

Let us take, as another case, that in which the sub- 
ject and predicate of my intended proposition are, the 
word *' I" and *' reading." I want for the purpose of 
predication only a Copula to signify nakedly that the 
mark " reading" is applied to the mark " I ;" but in- 
stead of this I am obliged to use a word which con- 
notes EXISTENCE, along with the force of the Copula ; 
and when I say ** I am reading," not only reading is 
predicated of me, but existing also. Suppose, again, 
my subject is " John," my predicate " dead," 1 am 
obliged to use for my Copula the word " is,*' which 
connotes existence, and I thus predicate of John both 
existence and deai/i. 

It may be easily collected, from this one example, 
what heterogeneous and inconsistent ideas may be 
forced into connection by the use of the Substantive 
Verb as the Copula in Predication ; and what confu- 
sion in the mental processes it tends to produce. It 
is in the case, however, of the higher abstractions, 
and the various combinations of ideas which the 
mind, in the processes of enquiring and marking, 
forms for its own convenience, to obtain a greater 
command over its stores and greater facility in com- 
municating them, that the use of the verb which con- 
joins the Predication of existence with every other 
Predication, has produced the wildest confusion, and 
been the most deeply injurious. Is it any wonder, 
for example, that Chance^ and Fate^ and Nature^ have 
been personified, and have had an existence ascribed 



176 . NAMING. [bHAK* Vf^ 

to them, as objects, when we have no means of predi- 
cating anything whatsoever of them, without predi- 
cating such EXISTENCE at the same time. If we say 
that "chance is nothing;" we predicate of it, by the 
word " is," both eanstence and noiAtnffness. 

When this is the case, it is by no means to be 
wondered at, that philosophers should so long have 
inquired what those existences are which abstract 
terms were employed to express; and should have 
lost themselves in fruitless speculations about tiie 
nature of entity, and quiddity, substance, and quality, 
space, time, necessity, eternity, and so on. 

It is necessary here to take notice of a part of the 
marking power of Verbs, which could not be explained 
till the nature of the copula was understood. 

Every Verb involves in it the force of the copula. 
It combines the marking powers of an adjective, and 
of the copula; and all Verbs may be resolved into 
those elements. Thus, "John walks," is the same 
with " John is walking." Verbs, therefore, are attri- 
butives, of the same nature as adjectives, only with 
additional connotative powers ; and they cut smaller 
classes out of larger, in the manner of adjectives. 
Thus " John walks," is an expression, the same in 
import as the Predication " John is a walking man ;" 
and, walking men, standing men, running men, lying 
men, are all sub-species of the Species Man. 

The same unhappy duplicity of meaning, which is 
incurred by using the Substantive Verb as the copula 
in Predication, is inflicted on other Verbs, in that part 
of their marking power by which they exhibit the 
connection between the two terms of a Predication. 
The copula, included in Verbs, is not the purx copula. 



nCI. !▼.] PREDICATION. 177 

but the ACTUAL copula ; the copula familiar and in con- 
stant use ; namely^ the Substantive Verb. From this 
it results, that whatever the peculiar attribute, which 
is predicated by means of any verb, existence is 
always predicated along with it. Thus, when I say 
" John walks," which is equivalent to " John is walk- 
ing,'' I predicate both existence, and walking, of John. 
When I say, " Caliban existed not," which is the same 
as " Caliban was not existing," I predicate both ex- 
istence, and non-existence, of the imaginary being 
Caliban. By the two first words of the Predication, 
" Caliban was," existence is predicated of him ; by the 
addition of the compound term " not existing," the 
opposite is predicated of him. 

The instances, in which the more complicated for- 
mations of the mind are the subjects of this double 
Predication, are those which, from the importance of 
their consequences, deserve the greatest degree of at- 
tention. Thus, when ' we say " virtue exalts," both 
existing ^ and exaltinff^ are predicated of virtue. When 
we say that " passion impels," both ewistencCy and im- 
pulsion, are predicated of passion. When we say that 
** Time generates," and " Space contains all things," 
we affirm existence of space and time, by the same 
expression by which we affirm of the one, that it 
generates ; of the other, that it contains. This con- 
stancy of Predication, forcing the same constancy in 
the junction of the ideas, furnishes a remarkable in- 
stance of that important case of association, of which 
we took notice above, where, by frequency of asso- 
ciation, two ideas become so joined, that the one 
constantly rises, and cannot be prevented from 
rising, in combination with the other. Thus it is, 

VOL. I. N 




178 NAMING. [chap. IV. 

that Time forces itself upon us as an object. So it is 
with Space. We cannot think of Space, we cannot 
think of Time, without thinking of them as existent. 
With the ideas of space and time, the idea of exis- 
tence, as it is predicated of objects, is so associated, 
by the use of the Substantive Verb as the coptUa in 
predication, that we cannot disjoin them. The same 
would have been the case with Chance, and Fate, and 
Nature ; if our religious education did not counteract 
the association. It was precisely the same, among 
the Greeks and Komans, whose religious education 
had not that eflfect." " 

^' The account of predication above given is in conformity 
with the phenomena of the family of languages known as the 
Indo-European. Logicians, in fact, in treating of this subject 
have had almost exclusive regard to Greek and Latin and the 
literary languages of modem Europe, which are all of one type. 
It might therefore be presumed that the theory thus formed 
would be found not to fit in all its parts when applied to lan- 
guages of an altogether different structure. The mental process 
must doubtless be the same in all ; but the words that express 
the several parts maybe used in new and unprecedented ways. 
Were naturalists to construct a scheme of the animal organism 
without ever having seen any other animals than those of the 
vertebrate type, the theory would eertainly fail in generality ; 
certain organs or functions would be set down as essential to 
animal existence which acquaintance with other classes of crea- 
tures shows can be quite well dispensed with. Similarly, the 
current theory of predication, when viewed in the light of a 
wider and deeper knowledge of the organism of speech, seems 
to attach an exaggerated importance to the peculiar predicative 
power presumed to be inherent in verbs, and especially in the 
verb of existence. It is now a well known fact that in the mono- 
syllabic class of languages, in which a third part of the human 
race express their thoughts, there is no distinction among the 



aiCT. IT.] PREDICATION. 179 

We have now observed, wherein Predication con- 
sists, and the instruments by which it is performed. 

parts of speech. In Chinese, for example, the word ta expresses 
indifferently great, greatness, to be great, to make great or mag- 
nify, greatly. It is only position that determines in each case 
how the word is to be understood ; thus traditional convention 
assigns to ta fa the meaning of ** a great man," and to fu ta 
that of " the man is great." Being habituated to the constant 
use of the verb is in such a case as the latter, we are apt to 
suppose that the expression derives its predicative force from 
its suggesting the verb of existence, which the mind iustinc- 
tively and necessarily supplies for itself. How little ground 
there is for this presumed necessity, has been conclusively 
shown by the late Mr. Garnett, in his profound and exhaustive 
essay on the Nature and Analysis of the Verb. Speaking of 
the theory that makes the essential difference between the verb 
and other parts of speech to reside in the verb substantive, 
which is to be supplied by the mind in all cases where the 
fanctions of the verb proper are to be called into requisition, 
he observes: "This theory presupposes the existence of a verb 
substantive in the languages in question, and consoiousness of 
that existence and of the force and capabilities of the element 
in those who speak them. Unfortunately the Spanish gram- 
marians, to whom we are indebted for what knowledge we 
possess of the Philippine dialects, unanimously concur in stating 
that there is no verb substantive either in Tagal^, Pampanga, 
or Bisaya, nor any means of supplying the place of one, except 
the employment of pronouns and particles. Mariner makes a 
similar remark respecting the Tonga language ; and we may 
venture to affirm that there is not such a thing as a true verb 
substantive in any one member of the great Polynesian family. 
''It is true that the Malayan, Javanese and Malagassy 
grammarians talk of words signifying to be ; but an attentive 
comparison of the elements which they profess to give as such, 
shows clearly that they are no verbs at all, but simply pronouns 
or indeclinable particles, commonly indicating the time, place 

n2 



180 NAMING. [chap. IV, 

We have also, in part, contemplated the End which 
it is destined to fulfil ; that is, to mark the order in 
which sensations and ideas follow one another in a 

or manner of the specified action or relation. It is not there- 
fore easy to conceive how the mind of a Philippine islander, or 
of any other person, can supply a word totally unknown to it, 
and which there is not a particle of evidence to show that it 
ever thought of." 

Of the substitutes put in place of the substantive verb, by 
far the most common are pronouns, and particles indicating 
position. Thus in Coptic^ the descendant of the ancient 
Egyptian, the demonstrative pe, " this," after a noun singular 
masculine, or te when the noun is feminine, is equivalent toi$; 
and ne, " these," after a plural, to are. In the ancient hiero- 
glyphic, monuments the function of the substantive verb is 
performed by the same means. Even in the Semitic langoages, 
which have substantive verbs, pronouns are habitually used 
instead of them ; so that 1 1, ov I he, stands for I am, and we 
we or we they, for we are. " Thou art my King " (Ps. 44, 5) 
is in the Hebrew " Thou he my King ;" " We are the servants 
of the God of heaven ' (Ezra 5, 11) is in Chaldee " We they 
servants of the God of heaven ;" " I am the light of the world," 
is in Arabic ** I he the light of the world." 

Although such modes of expression are foreign to the Indo- 
European languages, even they furnish abundant evidence of 
the predicative power of pronouns and particles. If any word 
required to have inherent in it the peculiar affirmative power 
attributed to verbs, it is the word yes. Accordingly Tooke 
derives it from the French imperative a-yez : forgetting, or not 
knowing, that the Anglo-Saxon gese or yea (cognate with the 
Sanscrit pronoun ya) was in existence long before the French 
ayez. The fact is that Eng. yes, Ger. ja, and the corresponding 
words in the other European languages are oblique oases of 
demonstrative pronouns, and mean simply *' in this (manner)," 
or '' thus." The Italian si (yes) is from Lat. 8to, (thus) ; the 
Proven9al oc is from Lat. hoc ; and the modem Fr. aui was 



SICT. IV.] PREDICATION, 181 

train. On this last part of the subject, however, the 
foUowing observations are still required. 

The trains, the order of which we have occasion to 

originally a combinatioD of hoc iUo, and passed through the 
stages of ocU and oil into its present form. 

The consideration of these and a multitude of similar phe- 
nomena suggests, that the Sanscrit as-mi, Gr. ei-mi, Lat. s-um 
(for €$-um)f £ng. a-m, may have had for its root the demon- 
strative pronoun sa, and meant primarily '' that (or there) us to 
me." Be that as it may, all philologists are agreed that the verbs 
now used to express being in the abstract, expressed originally 
something physical and palpable. Thus Ital. stato, Fr. ^t^, 
been, are from the Lat. 8tatum, the participle of sto, " to stand ;" 
and exist itself meant " to stand out or be prominent." Eng. 
be, Lat. fu- is identical with Gr. phy- " to grow ;" and, accord- 
ing to Max Miiller, as the root of as-mi meant '* breath" or 
** breathing." It may then be safely affirmed that no word had 
for its primary function to express mere existence ; it seems 
enough for the purpose of predication that existence be implied. 

With regard to ordinary verbs, the analytic processes of 
comparative grammar show no traces of a substantive verb 
entering into their structure. It is now an accepted doctrine 
of philology that, as a rule, the root of a verb is of the 
nature of an abstract noun ; and that it became a verb simply 
by the addition of a pronominal affix — as in the Greek Sl-Sta- 
fu, S/-Scii-c» Sl'Sw-m, in which the terminations were originally 
'fu^'^i^'Ti. The habits of thought arising out of the present 
analytic state of the Indo-European languages naturally lead 
us to conceive these pronominal affixes as nominatives. But 
gift I does not seem a very natural way of getting at the 
meaning " I give ;" and therefore Mr. Gamett maintains that 
the affixes were originally in an oblique case — the genitive or 
the instrumental — so that the literal meaning was '' gift of 
me," or " giving by me." That this is the nature of the verb 
in the agglutinate languages — by far the most numerous 
class — it seems hardly possible to dispute ; for in these the 



182 



NAMING. 



[chap. rv. 



mark, may, for the elucidation of the present subject, 
be divided into two classes. We have occasion to 



afiBxes remain rigidly distinct and little disguised. Thus, 
accordiDg to Garnett, the Wotiak, in order to express " my 



son," "thy son," &c., j 



pronouns to the noun pi in the following way : — 



pi-1 . 
pi-ed 
pi-ez 
pi-mi 
pi-dy 
pi-zy 



oins oblique cases of the personal 



bera-i . . 
bera-d . . 
bera-z . . 
bera-my . 
bera-dy . 
bera-zy . 



son of me 

son of thee 

son of him 

son of us 

son of you 

son of them 

In an exactly similar way the preterite of the verb to speak 
stands thus — 

speech of me = I spoke 

speech of thee 

speech of him 

speech of us 

speech of you 

speech of them. 
In the Fiji language loma means "heart" or "will;" and 
loma-qu (heart of me) may, according to the connection, sig- 
nify either "my heart or will," or " I will." 

In the inflected languages the affixes are so amalgamated 
with the root and otherwise obliterated that there is no such 
direct evidence of their nature ; but a great many facts tend 
to shew that the structure of the verb was originally the same 
as in the agglutinate family. 

If this analysis of the verb is correct, the affirmation of ex- 
istence found no expression in the early stages of language ; 
the real copula connecting the subject with the predicate wa$ 
the preposition contained in the oblique case of the pronomin^ 
affix, — ^jF. 

^ The interesting and important philological facts adduced 
by Mr. Findlater, confirm and illustrate in a very striking 
manner the doctrine in the text, of the radical distinction 




ttlCT, IV.] PEEDICATION. 183 

mark, either, first, The series of the objects we have 
seen, heard, or otherwise perceived by our senses ; or, 

between the functions of the copula in predication, and those 
of the substantive verb; by shewing that many languages 
have no substantive verb, no verb expressive of mere exis- 
tence, and yet signify their predications by other means ; and 
that probably all languages began without a substantive verb, 
though they must always have had predications. 

The confusion between these two different functions in the 
European languages, and the ambiguity of the verb To Be, 
which fulfils them both, are among the most important of the 
minor philosophical truths to which attention has been called 
by the author of the Analysis. As in the case of many other 
luminous thoughts, an approach is found to have been made 
to it by previous thinkers. Hobbes, though he did not reach 
ity came very close to it, and it was still more distinctly anti- 
cipated by Laromigui^re, though without any sufficient per- 
ception of its value. It occurs in a criticism on a passage of 
Pascal, and in the following words. " Quand on dit, 1 etre 
est, etc. le mot est, ou le verbe, n exprime pas la meme chose 
que le mot 6tre, sujet de la definition. Si j enonce la propo- 
sition suivante : Dieu est existant, je ne voudrais pas dire 
assur^ment, Dieu existe existant : cela ne ferait pas un sens ; 
de m^me, si je dis que Virgile est poete, je ne veux pas donner 
a entendre que Virgile existe. Le verbe est, dans la propo- 
sition, n'exprime done pas I'existence r^elle; il n'exprime 
qu un rapport special entre le sujet et Tatthbut, le rapport du 
contenant an contenu," &c. (Le9ons de Philosophic, 7™* ed. 
vol. i. p. 307.) Having thus hit upon an unobvious truth in 
the course of an argument directed to another purpose, he 
passes on and takes no further notice of it. 

It may seem strange that the verb which signifies existence 
should have been employed in so many different languages as 
the sign of predication, if there is no real connection between 
the two meanings. But languages have been built up by the 
extension of an originally small number of words, with or 



184 NAMING. [chap. IT« 

secondly, A train of thoughts which miay have passed 
in our minds. 

1. When we come to record a train of the objects 
we have perceived, that is, a train of sensations, the 
sensations have become ideas ; for the objects are not 
now acting on our senses, and the sensations are at 
an end. 

The order of the objects of our senses, is either the 
order of time, or the order of place. The first is the 
order of succession; when one object comes first, 
another next, and so on. The second is the order of 
POSITION ; when the objects are considered as simul- 
taneous, but different in distance and direction from a 
particular point. 

Let us observe in what manner the artifice of Pre- 



without alterations of form, to express new meanings, the 
choioe of the word being often determined by very distant 
analogies. In the present case, the analogy is not distant. All 
our predications are intended to deolare the manner in which 
something affects, or would affect, ourselves or others. Our 
idea of existence is simply the idea of something which affects 
or would affect us somehow, without distinction of mode. 
Everything, therefore, which we can have occasion to assert 
of an existing thing, may be looked upon as a particular 
mode of its existence. Since snow is white, and since snow 
exists, it may be said to exist white ; and if a si^ was wanted 
by which to predicate white of snow, the word exists would be 
very likely to present itself. But most of our predications do 
relate to existing things : and this being so, it is in the ordi- 
nary course of the human mind that the same sign should be 
adhered to when we are predicating something of a merely 
imaginary thing (an abstraction, for instance) and that, being 
so used, it should create an association between the abstrac- 
tion and the notion of real existence. — Ed. 



SECT. IV.] PREDICATION. 185 

dication is adapted to the marking of a train in either 
of those orders : and first, with respect to a train in 
the order of Time. 

Of this the following may be taken as a simple 
example. " The sun rises ; clouds form ; clouds cover 
the sky ; lightning flashes ; thunder roars." It is 
easy in these expressions to observe, what were the 
sensations, and in what order they succeeded one 
another. It is also observable, that the order is 
denoted by so many Predications ; and that Predica- 
tion is our only expedient for denoting their order. 
First sensation, " sight of the sun ;" second sensation, 
" rising of the sun ;" these two denoted shortly and in 
their order by the Predication, " the sun rises." Third 
sensation, " sight of clouds ;" fourth sensation, " form- 
ing of clouds ;" these two again shortly denoted in 
their order by the Predication, " clouds form." The 
next, " clouds cover the sky," needs no further expla- 
nation ; but there is a peculiar artifice of language in 
the two following Predications ; '* lightning flashes," 
" thunder roars," which deserves to be well understood. 
" Lightning flashes ;" here there is but one sensation, 
the sensation of sight, which we call a flash. But 
there are various kinds of flashes ; this is a peculiar 
one, and I want to mark peculiarly what it is. It is 
not a flash on the earth, but a flash in the sky ; it 
will not, however, sufficiently distinguish the flash in 
question, to say, the sky flashes, because other flashes 
come from the sky. What then is my contrivance ? 
I form the fancy of a cause of this particular flash, 
though I know nothing concerning it, and for this 
unknown cause I invent a name, and call it lightning. 
I have then an expression which always accurately 



186 l^AMINO. [chap. IV. 

marks the sensation I mean to denote : I say, " the 
lightning flashes," " a flash of lightning," and so on. 
" Thunder roars," is another case of the same artifice. 
The noise here is the only sensation ; but in order to 
distinguish it from all other noises, I invent a name 
for its imknown cause, and by its means can mark the 
sensation with perfect precision. 

The Fictions, after this manner resorted to, for the 
purpose of marking; though important among the 
artifices of naming; have contributed largely to the 
misdirection of thought. 

By the unfortunate ambiguity of the Copula^ ex- 
istence is affirmed of them in every Predication into 
which they enter. The idea of existence becomes, by 
this means, inseparable from them; and their true 
nature, as Creatures of the mind, and nothing more, 
is rarely, and not without difficulty, perceived. 

The mode in which a train, in the order of place, is 
marked by the artifice of Predication, may be thus 
exemplified : " The house is on a hill ; a lawn is in 
front ; a stable is on the left hand ; a garden is on 
the right ; a wood is behind." It is not necessary, 
after the exposition of the preceding example, to ex- 
hibit the detail of the marking performed by these 
Predications. The reader can trace the sensations, 
the order of them, and the mode of the marking, 
according to the specimen which has just been ex- 
hibited. 

2. The trains of thought which pass in our minds, 
are sequences, the items of which are connected in 
three principal ways : 1st, as cause and effect ; 2dly, 
as resembling; 3dly, as included under the same 
name. A short illustration of each of these cases will 



^ 



8BCT. IV.] PREDICATION. 187 

complete the account of predication, as a contrivance 
for marking the order of ideas. 

To illustrate a sequence, connected as Cause and 
Effect, let me suppose that I have a flint and steel in 
my hand, which I am about to strike, one against the 
other, but at that instant perceive a barrel of gun- 
powder open, close before me. I withhold the stroke 
in consequence of the train of thought which suggests 
to me the ultimate effect. If I have occasion to mark 
the train, I can only do it by a series of Predications, 
each of which marks a sequence in the train of causes 
and effects. " I strike the flint on the steel," first 
sequence. " The stroke produces a spark," second 
sequence. " The spark falls on gunpowder," third 
sequence. " The spark ignites the gunpowder," 
fourth sequence. " The gunpowder ignited makes an 
explosion," fifth sequence. The ideas contained in 
these propositions must all have passed through my 
mind, and this is the only mode in which language 
enables me to mark them in their order." 

^^ It is necessary again to notice the consistent omission, 
throughout the authors theory of Predication, of the element 
Belief. In the case supposed, the ideas contained in all the 
propositions might have passed through the mind, without our 
being led to assert the propositions. I might have thought of 
every step in the series of phenomena mentioned, might have 
pictured all of them in my imagination, and have come to the 
conclusion that they would not happen. I therefore should 
not have made, either in words or in thought^ the predication, 
This gunpowder will explode if I strike the flint agaiust the 
steel. Yet the same ideas would have passed through my 
mind in the same order, in which they stand in the text. The 
only deficient link would have been the final one, the Belief. 
—Kd 



188 NAMING. [chap. IV. 

The sequences of which the items are connected by 
Eesemblance will not require much illustration. I 
see A, who suggests B to me by his stature. B sug- 
gests C by the length of his nose. C suggests D by 
the similarity of their profession, and so on. The 
series of my thoughts is sufficiently obvious. How 
do I proceed when I have occasion to mark it? 'I 
use a series of predications. " I see A ;" this predi- 
cation marks the first item, my sight of A. " A is 
tall," the second. *' A man of like tallness is B/' the 
third ; and so on. 

The mode in which thoughts are united in a Syllo- 
gism, is the leading example of the third case. Let 
us consider the following very familiar instance. 
" Every tree is a vegetable : every oak is a tree : there- 
fore, every oak is a vegetable." This is evidently a 
process of naming. The primary idea is that of the 
object called an oak ; from the name oak, I proceed 
to the name tree, finding that the name oak, is in- 
cluded in the name tree ; and from the name tree, I 
proceed to the name vegetable, finding that the name 
tree is included in the name vegetable, and by conse- 
quence the name oak. This is the series of thoughts, 
which is marked in order, by the three propositions 
or predications of the syllogism." 




^ For the present I shall only remark on this theory of the 
syllogism, that it must stand or fall with the theory of Predi- 
cation of which it is the sequel. If, as I have maintained, the 
propositions which are the premises of the syllogism are not 
correctly described as mere processes of naming, neither is 
the formula by which a third proposition is elicited from these 
two a process of mere naming. What it is, will be considered 
hereafter. — Ed. 



MtCT. IV.] PREDICATION. 180 

The Predications of Arithmetic.are another instance 
of the same thing. " One and one are two/' This 
again is a mere process of naming. What I call one 
and one, in nnmbering things, are objects, sensations, 
or clusters of sensations ; suppose, the striking of the 
clock. The same sounds which I call one and one, I 
call also two ; I have for these sensations, therefore, 
two names which are exactly equivalent : so when I 
say, one and one and one are three : or when I say, 
two and two are four : ten and ten are twenty : and 
the same when I put together any two numbers what- 
soever. The series of thoughts in these instances is 
merely a series of names applicable to the same thing, 
and meaning the same thing. 

Beside the two purposes of language, of which I 
took notice at the beginning of this inquiry ; the re- 
cording of a man's thoughts for his own use, and the 
communication of them to others ; there is a use, to 
which language is subservient, of which some account 
is yet to be given. There are complex sensations, and 
complex ideas, made up of so many items, that one is 
not distinguishable from another. Thus, a figure of 
one hundred sides, is not distinguishable from one of 
ninety-nine sides. A thousand men in a crowd are 
not distinguishable from nine hundred and ninety- 
nine. But in all cases, in which the complexity of 
the idea arises from the repetition of the same idea^ 
names can be invented upon a plan, which shall render 
them distinct, up to the very highest degree of com« 
plication. Numbers are a set of names contrived upon 
this plan, and for this very purpose. Ten and the 
numbers below ten, are the repetition of so many 
ones : twenty, thirty, forty, &c., up to a hundred, are 




190 NAMING. [chap. it. 

the repetition of so many tens : two hundred, three 
hundred, &c., the repetition of so many hundreds; 
and so on. These are names, which afford an imme- 
diate reference to the ones or units, of which they are 
composed ; and the highest numbers are as easily dis- 
tinguished by the difference of a unit as the lowest. 
All the processes of Arithmetic are only so many 
contrivances to substitute a distinct name for an in- 
distinct one. What, for example, is the purpose of 
addition ? Suppose I have six numbers, of which I 
desire to take the sum, 18, 14, 9, 25, 19, 15; these 
names, eighteen, and fourteen, and nine, &c., form a 
compound name ; but a name which is not distinct. 
By summing them up, I get another name, exactly 
equivalent, one hundred, which is in the highest de- 
gree distinct, and gives me an immediate reference to 
the units or items of which it is composed ; and this 
is of the highest utility. 

That the Predications of Q-eometry are of the same 
nature with those of Arithmetic, is a truth of the greatest 
importance, and capable of being established by very 
obvious reasoning. It is well known, that all reason- 
ing about quantity can be expressed in the form of 
algebraic equations. But the two sides of an alge- 
braic equation are of necessity two marks or two names 
for the same thing ; of which the one on the right- 
hand side is more distinct, at least to the present pur- 
pose of the inquirer, than the one on the left-hand 
side ; and the whole purpose of an algebraic investiga- 
tion, which is a mere series of changes of names, is to 
obtain, at last, a distinct name, a name the marking 
power of which is perfectly known to us, on the right- 
hand side of the equation. The language of geometry 



WBCT. IV.] PEEDICATION. 191 

itself, in the more simple cases, makes manifest the 
same observation. The amount of the three angles of 
a triangle, is twice a right angle. I arrive at this 
conclusion, as it is called, by a process of reasoning : 
that is to say, I find out a name " twice a right angle/' 
which much more distinctly points out to me a certain 
quantity, than my first name, " amount of the three 
angles of a triangle ;" and the process by which I 
arrive at this name is a successive change of names, 
and nothing more ; as any one may prove to himself 
by merely observing the steps of the demonstration.*' 
There is one important class of words, the names 
of NAMES ; of which we shall have occasion to take 
account more particularly hereafter, and of which it 
is necessary here to speak only as they form a variety 
of Predication. A few examples will make the case 

*^ I cannot see any propriety in the expression that when 
we infer the sum of the three angles of a triangle to be twice 
a right angle, the operation consists in finding a second name 
which more distinctly points out the quantity than the first 
name. When we assent to the proof of this theorem, we do 
much more than obtain a new and more expressive name for a 
known fact ; we learn a fact previously unknown. It is true 
that one result of our knowledge of this theorem is to give 
us a name for the sum of the three angles, " the marking 
power of which is perfectly known to us :" but it was not for 
want of knowing the marking power of the phrase " sum of 
the three angles of a triangle" that we did not know what that 
sum amounted to. We knew perfectly what the expression 
" sum of the three angles" was appointed to mark. What we 
have obtained, that we did not previously possess, is not a 
better mark for the same thing, but an additional fact to mark 
— the fact which is marked by predicating of that sum, the 
phrase " twice a right angle." — Ed. 



192 NAMIKO. [CHAP« ly. 

intelligible. Word is ei, ffenerical nsLvae for all Names. 
It is not the name of a Thing, as chair is the name of 
a thing, or watch, or picture. But word is a name for 
these seyeral names ; chair is a word, watch is a word, 
picture is a word, and so of all other names. Thus 
grammatical and logical terms are names of names. 
The word noun^ is the name of one class of words, 
verb of another, preposition of another, and so on. 
The word sentence, is the name of a series of words 
put together for a certain purpose ; the wordparaprapk, 
the same ; and so oration, discourse, essay, treatise, &c. 
The words y^;fi^ and species, are not names of things, 
but of names. Grenus is not the name of any thing 
called animal or any thing called body ; it is a name 
of the names animal, body, and so on ; the name animal 
is a yenus, the name body is a yenus ; and in like man- 
ner is the name man a species, the name horse, the 
name crow, and so on. The name preposition, the 
name syllogism, are names of a series of words put 
together for a particular purpose ; and so is the term de- 
Jinition ; and the term argument. It will be easily seen 
that these words enter into Predication precisely on 
the same principles as other words. Either the more 
distinct is predicated of the less distinct, its equiva- 
lent ; or the more comprehensive of the less compre- 
hensive. Thus we say, that nouns and verbs are de- 
dinables ; preposition and adverb indeclinables ; where 
the more comprehensive terms are predicated of the 
less. Thus we say, that adjectives and verbs are 
attributes ; where the more distinct is predicated of 
the less." 

^^ This exposition of the class of words which are properly 
names of names, belongs originally to Hobbes, and is highly 



■ICT. !▼.] PREDICATION. 198 

important. They are a kind of names, the sigDiiication of 
which is very often misunderstood, and has given occasipn to 
much hazy speculation. It should however be remarked that 
the words genus and species are not solely names of names ; 
they are ambiguous. A genus never indeed means (as many of 
the schoolmen supposed) an abstract entity, distinct from all the 
individuals composing the class ; but it often means the sum of 
those individuals taken collectively ; the class as a whole, dis- 
tinguished on the one hand from the single objects comprising 
it^ and on the other hand from the class name.-^£7({. 



VOL. I. 



194 NAMING. [chap. it. 



SECTION V. 

PRONOUNS. 

The principal part of the artifice of Naming is now 
explained. We have considered the nature of the 
more necessarjr marks, a^d the manner in which they 
are combined so as to represent the order of a train. 
Beside those marks, which are the fundamental part of 
language, there are several classes of auxiliary words 
or marks, the use of which is, to abbreviate expression, 
and to render it, what is of great importance, a more 
rapid vehicle of thought. These are usually com- 
prehended under the titles of pronoun, adverb, pre- 
position, and conjunction ; a classification which, for 
our present purpose, has the best recommendation, 
that of being familiarly known. 

It is to be distinctly understood, that in the account 
which is here to be given of the subsidiary parts of 
speech, it is but one part of the explanation of them 
which will be attempted. The ideas, which many of 
them stand for, are of the most complicated kind, and 
have not yet been expounded. We are, therefore, not 
yet prepared to point out the items which they mark. 
Our present business is only to indicate the mode in 
which they are used in Predication, as part of the 
great contrivance for marking the order of a train of 
ideas, and for economizing the number of words. 

It is also necessary to observe, that I have limited 
myself, in this part, to brief indications, without 



SECT, v.] PRONOUNS. 195 

going into minute developement, the length of which, 
it appeared to me, would not be compensated by the 
advantage. 

In all speech there is a speaker; there is some 
person spoken to ; and there is some person or thiny 
spoken of. These objects constitute three Classes, 
marks of which are perpetually required. Any artifice, 
therefore, to abridge the use of marks, of such frequent 
recurrence, was highly to be desired. One expedient 
offered itself obviously, as likely to prove of the highest 
utility. SpeaJcers constituted one class, with numerous 
names ; persons spoken tOy a second class ; persons and 
thinys spoken of a third- A generical name might be 
invented for each class ; a name, which would include 
all of a class, and which singly might be used as the 
substitute of many. For this end were the Personal 
Pronouns invented and such is their character and 
office. " I," is the generical mark which includes all 
marks of the class, speakers. " Thou," is a generical 
mark, which includes all marks of the class, persons 
spoken to. " He," " she," " it," are marks, which 
include all marks of the class, persons or things spo- 
ken of. 

By forming Adjectives from certain kinds of Nouns 
we obtain a useful class of specific names. From 
wool we make woollen ; and woollen, attached to va- 
rious generic names, furnishes us with specific names ; 
thus we say woollen cloth, which is a species of cloth ; 
woollen yam, which is a species of yam ; woollen gar- 
ment, which is a species of garment. So, from the word 
gold we make golden, which furnishes us ¥rith a greater 
number of specific names ; from wood wooden, which 
furnishes us with a still greater number. Adjectives are 

o2 



196 NAMING. [chap. IV 

formed in like manner from the personal pronouns : 
from I, my or mine; from Thou, thy or thine ; from He, 
She, It, his, hers, its ; also from the plurals of them, 
ours, yours, theirs. These adjectives answer a purpose 
of very frequent recurrence ; that of singling out, from 
any class of objects, a sub*class, or an individual, 
bearing a peculiar relation, to the person peaking ^ the 
person spoken io, or the person or thing spo/cen of. Thus, 
when I say, my sheep or my oxen, I denote a sub-class 
of those animals, those which stand in the relation of 
property to the speaker ; when I say thy sheep or oxen, 
I denote a sub-class in the same relation to the person 
spoken to ; and when I say his sheep or oxen, a sub- 
class, standing in that relation to the person spoken of. 
When I say my son, thy wife, his father, I single out 
individuals having that relation. 

The Demonstrative Pronouns, This and That, are 
of great utility. They serve to individualize any 
thing in a class. One of these marks put upon a 
specific mark, makes it an individual mark. Thus, the 
mark " man," is the name of a class : put upon it the 
mark this, or that; this man, and that man, are 
marks, signs, or names, of individuals. In this man- 
ner innumerable individual names can be made, without 
adding a single word to the cumbrous materials of 
language. 

The nature of the Relative Pronoun is not difficult 
to understand. It supplies the place of a personal 
pronoun and a conjunction, in connecting a Predica- 
tion with the subject, or predicate of another pro- 
position. Thus, "John received a wound, wAtek 
occasioned his death," is of the same import as " John 
received a wound, and it occasioned his death." This 



8ICT. v.] PRONOUNS. 197 

is a case in which the Belative connects a subsequent 
predication with the predicate of an antecedent predi- 
cation. The following are cases in which it connects 
a subordinate predication with the subject of the prin- 
cipal one : " Erasmus, who was a lover of truth, but of 
a timid character, hesitated between the new and the 
old religion." Erasmus, and he was a lover of truth, 
&c. "The man who spoke to you is my father." 
" The man spoke to you, and he is my father. "*• 



^' There is really no well marked distiuction between rela- 
tive pronouns and demonstrative pronouns, either in their 
origin or in their use. Of the demonstrative roots A;a, aa, ta^ 
jay derivatives from the guttural ka prevail as relatives in Latin 
and its modem descendants (Lat. qui, It. chCy Fr. qui\ and in 
the Teutonic languages (Goth. Ara, Eng. who, Ger. wer, 
welch), but* by no means exclusively. In Greek the relative 
differs little from the article, which is also used as a demon- 
strative and a personal pronoun. Modem Italian uses as a 
demonstrative a compound of the Latin qui with iate and ilia 
— questo, quella. In German the relative proper, viz. welch, 
is comparatively little used, its place heing supplied hy the 
article der, which is merely an unemphatic demonstrative ; and 
in English that is perhaps as often used as who or whicL 

The relative serves for two purposes, which it is useful to 
distinguish. (1) It may add on either a clause containing an 
independent proposition, as in the example in the text, " John 
received a wound, which occasioned his death ;" or a clause 
dependent in some way upon the preceding — e.g. assigning the 
reason of it, as, "It was unjust to punish the servant^ who 
only did what he was ordered." (2) The clause introduced by 
the relative may serve simply to limit or define a noun, in the 
way that an adjective or another noun in apposition does, as 
" The man who spoke to you is my father." It is in this 
latter use of the relative, and in no other, that it is permissible 



198 NAMING. [chap. IV. 

The Interrogative is easily explained. It is merely 
the Belative, in a very elliptical form of expression. 
The interrogative sentence, ^'Who gave you that 
book ?" when the subaudition is supplied, is thus ex- 
pressed : The person gave you the book, and him I 
will you to name to me. " What is the hour of the 
day ?" is an elliptical form of, — It is an hour of the 
day, and it I will you to tell me. 

in English to use that ; to substitute that for which in the 
first of the other two sentences, or for who in the second, 
would give a different meaning. Now it is only in the cases 
in which that could not be substituted for who or which that the 
relative involves the force of a conjunction ; and it is not always 
and that is the conjunction involved. The conjunction has no 
verbal expression, and never had ; it is only suggested, and the 
mind supplies that which best suits the logical connection. 
When the predication of the relative clause is co-ordinate with 
the preceding, as in the first example, and is the proper con- 
junction to supply. In the sentence about the punishment of 
the servant, who is equivalent to /or he; and in that about 
Erasmus, in the text, to inasmuch as he. When the relative 
clause merely defines, no conjunction of any kind is even 
implied. In such a sentence as '' He rewarded the man that 
rescued him," the relative clause is the answer to a question 
naturally suggested by " He rewarded the man " — what man ? 
*' The or that (man) rescued him ;" which is equivalent to, " his 
rescuer." To resolve it into " And that man rescued him," 
gives quite a different meaning; namely, that he rewarded 
some man (otherwise known to the hearers) for something 
(likewise known to them), and that this man now rescued 
him. — F. 



81CT. VI.] ADVERBS. 199 



SECTION VI. 



ADVERBS. 



The power of this class of words, in the great busi- 
ness of marking, and the extent of the service ren- 
dered by them, will be so easily seen, that a few words 
will suffice to explain them. Adverbs may be reduced 
under five heads ; 1 , Adverbs of Time ; 2, Adverbs 
of Place ; 3, Adverbs of Quantity ; 4, Adverbs of 
Quality ; 5, Adverbs of Relation. They are mostly 
abridgments, capable of being substituted for longer 
marks. And they are always employed for the pur- 
pose of putting a modification upon the Subject, or 
the Predicate, of a Proposition. A few examples will 
suffice for the further elucidation of this subject. 
" Anciently," is an adverb of time. It is of the same 
import as the expression, " In distant past time." It 
is applied to modify the subject, or predicate, of a pro- 
position, as in the foUowing example : " A number of 
men anciently in England had yrives in common." 
"Had wives in common," is the predicate of the 
above proposition, and it is modified, or limited, in 
respect to time, by the word " anciently." Adverbs 
of place it is easy to exemplify in the same manner. 
Under adverbs of quantity all those which mark 
degrees may be included; as greatly, minutely: 
Thus, " He enlarged greatly upon patriotism :" 
" Greatly" here means " in many words ;" and it 
modifies the predicate, " enlarged," &c. Adverbs of 



200 NAMING. [chap. IV. 

quality and relation are exceedingly numerous, because 
they are easily made from the words which connote 
the quality or relation : thus, from hard, hardly ; from 
loud, loudly; from sweet, sweetly; from warm, 
warmly: again, from father, paternally; from son, 
filially ; from magistrate, magisterially ; from high, 
highly ; from expensive, expensively ; and so on. In 
all this no difficulty is presented which requires 
removing." 

^ In many cases, and even in some of the examples given, 
the adverb does not modify either the subject or the predicate, 
but the application of the one to the other. '^ Anciently," in 
the proposition cited, is intended to limit and qaalify not 
men, nor community of wives, but the practice by men of 
community of wives : it is a circumstance a£fecting not the 
subject or the predicate, but the predication. The quaUfica- 
tion of past and distant time attaches to the fact asserted, and 
to the copula, which is the mark of assertion. The reason of 
its seeming to attach to the predicate is because, as the author 
remarked in a previous section, the predicate, when a verb, in- 
cludes the copula. — Ed. 



•ECT, VU.] PROPOSITIONS. 201 



SECTION vn. 



PREPOSITIONS. 



It is easy to see in what maimer Prepositions are 
employed to abridge the process of discourse. They 
render us the same service which, we have seen, is 
rendered by adjectives, in affording the means of 
naming minor classes, taken out of larger, with a 
great economy of names. Thus, when we say, " a 
man with a black skin ;" this compound name, '' a 
man with a black skin," is the name of a sub-class, 
taken out of the class man ; and when we say, '' a 
black man with a fiat nose and woolly hair ;" this 
stiU more compound name is the name of a minor class, 
taken out of the sub-class, '' men with a black skin." 

Prepositions always stand before some word of 
the class called by grammarians nouns substantive. 
And these nouns substantive they connect with other 
nouns substantive, with adjectives, or with verbs. 
We shall consider the use of them, in each of those 
cases. 

1. Substantives are united to Substantives by 
prepositions, on purpose to mark something added, 
something taken away, something possessed or owned. 
Thus, a man with a dog, a horse without a saddle, a 
man of wealth, a man of pleasure, and so on. 

It was first shewn by Mr. Home Tooke, that pre- 
positions, in their origin, are verbs, or nouns. Thus 
the prepositions in English, which note the modifica- 
tions effected by adding to, or taking from, were 



i 



202 NAMING. [chap. IY. 

originally concrete words, which, beside something 
connoted by them, marked particularly ^*«^«c/w?», ordis^ 
junction. In the use of them as prepositions, that 
part of their signification, which we have called the 
connotation, has been dropped ; and the notation alone 
remains. Prepositions, therefore, are a sort of abstract 
terms, to answer a particular purpose. To express my 
idea of a man with a dog (a very complex idea, con- 
sisting of two clusters ; one, that which is marked by 
the term man ; the other, that which is marked by 
the term dog) ; it is not enough that I set down the 
term Man, and the term Dog ; it is necessary, besides, 
that I have a mark for that particular^'i^^c^iV^/} of them, 
which my mind is making. For that mark I use the 
preposition " with." " Without" denotes disjunction 
in a similar manner, and requires no further explana- 
tion. The preposition " of," by which possession or 
ownership is denoted, (formerly, as remarked by Mr. 
Gilchrist, written off, oc, aCy &c.), is eke^ or add. If 
we suppose that our verb have is of the same origin, 
of is merely the verb, which signifies possessing ; and 
the learner may thus conceive the nature of its diffe- 
rent applications.* "A man of wealth," a man 
hav(ing) wealth; "a field of ten acres," a field 
hav(ing) ten acres; so, *'a house of splendour;" "a 
woman of gallantry ;" in all of which cases, beside 
the two clusters of ideas, marked by the two names 
which the preposition connects, there is an idea of 
possession coming between. 

Here, however, a peculiarity is to be noted. When 
there is a possessor, there is something possessed. 

* See note at p. 209. 



IBCT. Vll.] PREPOSITIONS. 203 

The preposition, therefore, which marks the relation 
between the possessor and the possessed, stands ambi- 
^ously between the active and the passive power. 
Et, therefore, partakes more of the active or the 
passive signification, according to the position of the 
words which it is employed to connect. In the in- 
stances previously given, we have seen that it had 
clearly an active signification. In the following it 
[las clearly a passive. "The book of John/' the 
book ofy hav(ed) John. "The Creator of the world ;" 
Creator hav(ed). " The wealth of Croesus ;" wealth 
bav(ed). 

Of is employed in a partitive sense, when one of 
the words denotes a part of the other ; as " half of 
the army ;" " many of the people f " much of the 
loss.'' In this case the idea of possession is suffi- 
ciently obvious to support the analogy. The parts 
Eure possessed, had, by the whole. " Part of the debt,'' 
part hav(ed) the debt. 

It is easy to see how the preposition with a sub- 
stantive, serves the purpose of a new adjective. 
Thus, in the expression, " a man ¥rith one eye," the 
words, " with one eye," might have been supplied by 
m adjective, having the same meaning or marking 
power ; and the French language actually has such an 
idjective, in the mark horgne. We say, a man with 
red hair, and we have the adjective, red-haired ; a man 
rf wealth, and we have the adjective, wealthy ; a man 
Df strength, and we have the adjective, strong ; cases 
virhich distinctly exemplify our observation. 

2. We come now to shew in what manner, and 
with what advantage, prepositions are employed to 
connect Substantives with Adjectives. The following 




204 NAMiNO. [chap, ir* 

classes of adjectives will famish sufficient illustration^ 
of this part of the subject : 1, Adjectives of place or" 
position ; Adjectives of time or succession ; 3, A^ee- 
tives signifying profit or disprofit; 4, Acyectives oP~ 
plenty or want ; 5, Adjectives signifying an affection. 
or state of the mind. 

Adjectives of position, such as near, distant, high, 
low, have the ordinary power of adjectives, as marks 
upon marks ; and an additional power, which vnll best 
be explained by examples. "When we say " a distant 
house," "a neighbouring town;" the words "distant," 
and " neighbouring," are not only marks npon 
" house," and " town," but refer to something else^ 
" a distant house," is a house distant from aotnetiiMf ; 
" a neiffkbouring town," is a town neighbouring somw- 
thing : it may mean " a house distant from my house," 
" a town neighbouring my house :" in these casee, we 
should say that the adjective has both a notation, and 
a connotation. The adjective distant, for example, 
notes house, and connotes my home; neighbouring, 
notes tovm, connotes my house. It is next, however, 
to be observed, that the connotation, in such cases, 
would be vague without a mark to determine it. The 
expression would be very imperfect, if, after the word 
high, we were merely to put the word " hill ;" and say, 
" the house is high the hill ;" or, " the house is dis- 
tant the post-town." Prepositions supply this defect. 
We say, " the house is high on the hill ;" " the house 
is distant /rom the post-town." In the case of some 
adjectives, their juxta- position makes the reference 
sufficiently precise ; and in that case, the preposition 
may be dispensed with \ as, near the town, near the 
road, &c. 



8BCT. Til.] PREPOSITIONS. 205 

It is obBervable, that the adjectives of position are 
not numerous. Some yeiy general ones are used; 
a&d the sub-species are formed out of them by the aid 
of prepositions. Thus we have the word placed, 
which includes all positions ; and this, joined with a 
substantive and a preposition, marks positions of all 
IdndB : thus we can say, placed on the right hand, 
placed on the leffc hand, placed behind the house, 
placed before the house, placed above it, placed below 
it^ placed in it, and so on. 

It is not my intention to inquire into the precise 
meaning of each of the prepositions. It is sufficient 
to have given a sample of the inquiry, as in the case 
of the prepositions which connect substantives with 
sabfitantives ; and to have shewn the mode of their 
signification, as a kind of abstract terms, either active 
or passive. 

The varieties of time or succession are not many, 
and the words to denote them, proportionally few. 
Previous, simultaneous, posterior, are the principal 
adjectives ; and the terms to which these words of 
reference point, are marked by prepositions : thus we 
say, previous to, simultaneous to, and also with ; 
'^ with/' as we have seen, denoting junction, sameness 
of time. 

Adjectives of profit or disprofit, need prepositions 
to mark their connexion with the things benefited or 
hart ; as, hurtful to the crop ; good for the health. 
These adjectives afford a good example of the manner 
in which generical adjectives are divided into nume- 
rous sub-species, without the inconvenience of new 
names, by the aid of the prepositions : thus, hurtful, 
which notes all kinds of hurtfulness, is made to note 



206 NAMING. [chap. 

its various species, in the following manner : hurtfo — ^ 
to the health, hurtful to the eyes, hurtfiil to th^ ^ 
stomach, hurtful to the crops, hurtful to the reputation ^^ 
all different species of hurtfulness, which might 
noted by adjectives severally appropriated to them. 

There is nothing particular to be remarked of th< 
manner in which adjectives of plenty, or want, oi^^ 
those signifying an affection of the mind, are con — -i 
nected with the objects they connote, by prepositions s, 
we shall, therefore, proceed to shew the manner ii 
which verbs are connected with substantives, by theii 
means. 

3. All verbs are adjectives, either active or passive, 
put into a particular form, for the sake of a partici 
connotation. All actions, saving those which begin an< 
end in the actor, have a reference to a patient, oi 
something acted on ; and the being acted on ; the pas* 
sion as it is called ; has a reference to the actor. A< 
tion, therefore, and passion, are relative terms, stand- 
ing in the order of cause and effect ; agent and patient, 
are the names of the subjects of the action and the 
passion, the cause and the effect. 

Most actions are motions, or named by analogy to 
motions. In applying terms denoting motion, there 
is particular occasion for marking the two points ol 
termination ; the point at which it began, and the 
point at which it ended. This is effected by the 
name of the two places, and a preposition. The con- 
trivance will be sufficiently illustrated by an obvious 
example : " John travelled from London to Dover :" 
" Travelled,** the name of the motion ; London, the 
point of commencement ; Dover, the point of termina- 
tion : from, a word denoting commencement, connect- 



SECT. VII.] PREPOSITIONS. 207 

ing London with travelled ; to, a word signifying 
completion, connecting the word Dover, with the 
word travelled. 

Some verbs, which imply motion, have their main, 
or only reference, to the point of its termination. 
Thus, he stopped at Dover : he struck him on the 
head : he stabbed him in the side. These prepositions, 
whatever their precise import, which we shall not now 
stop to inquire, mark, when thus applied to the name 
of the place at which the respective motions termi- 
nated, the connexion of the two names, that of the 
motion, and that of its point of termination. 

With respect to motions, we have occasion to mark, 
not only the points of their commencement and ter- 
mination, but also their direction. The direction of 
a motion, by which we mean the position of the 
moving body, at the several points of its course, can 
only be marked by a reference to other bodies, whose 
position is known. Thus, " He walked through the 
field." The direction of the walk, or the position of 
the walking man, at the several moments of it, is 
marked by a reference to the field whose position is 
known to me, and a word which means, from side to 
side. The expression, " It flew in a straight line," is 
less full and particular in its marking, but clear and 
distinct, as far as it goes, by reference to a modifica- 
tion of position ; namely, a line, with which I am 
perfectiy familiar. 

In using verbs of action and passion, that is, words 
which mark a certain cluster of ideas, we have occa- 
sion to modify such clusters, by adding to, or 
taking from them, not only ideas of Position, as 
above, but various other ideas ; of which the idea of 



208 NAMING. [CHA?. H. 

the Cause, or End, of the action, the idea of the In- 
strument with which it was performed, and the idea 
of the Manner of the performance, are among the 
principal. " John worked ;" to this, a mark of a 
certain cluster of ideas, I want to make an addition, 
that of the Cause or End of his working. That End 
is. Bread. To mark this as the cause of his working, 
it is not enough to set down the name bread ; I ne^ 
a mark to fix its connexion with the working, and the 
kind of its connexion. I say, " John worked for 
(cause) bread." " John was robbed for (cause of the 
robbery) his money." The ideas of manner and 
instrument are commonly annexed by one preposi- 
tion ; " John worked with (joining) diligence,** the 
manner ; " John worked with a spade," the same idea> 
as " John with (joined) a spade worked ;** spade, the 
instrument. " John worked by the job, worked by 
the day ;*' manner : " John worked by machinery," 
the instrument. " He was killed with barbarity, 
with a cudgel.*' 

We say, done with hurry, or in a hurry, done in 
haste. " In,*' which seems to mark a modification of 
position, is here applied to that which does not admit 
of position. Hurry and haste seem in such expres- 
sions to be personified ; to be things which surround 
an action, and in the midst of which it is done. 

We have compound names for many actions. Thus, 
we may say, " he hurt Joh^i," or, " he did hurt to 
John," " he gav^ a lecture to John," or, " he lectured 
John.** The reason why a preposition is required 
before the patient, in the case of the compound name 
of the action, and not of the single name, is, that the 
word which stands with respect to the verb in the 



k 



•ICT. VII.] PREPOSITIONS. 20f9 

immediate relation of the recipient or patient of the 
action, is not the man, but the thing done. Thus, in 
the phrase, " he did hurt to John," it is not John 
which is done, but hurt : in the phrase, " he gave n^ 
lecture to John," it is not John who is given, but a 
lecture. There are here, as it were, two patients, 
lecture, the primary, John, the secondary ; juxta- 
position marks the connexion of the primary ; but a 
preposition is necessary, to mark that of the secondary. 
The following phrases seem to admit of a similar 
explanation. " He reminded him of his promise ;" 
"he accused him of perjury;" "he deprived him of 
his wife :" the secondary patients being " promise," 
"perjury," "wife." He reminded him of his 
promise (hav(ed) his promise) ; the promise being the 
thing had or conceived in the reminding : accused him 
of perjury ; perjury being the thing had in the accusa- 
tion, the matter of the accusation : deprived him of his 
wife ; his wife being the matter of the deprivation ; 
the thing hav(ed) in it." 

^ The ingenious speculations of Mr. Tooke did great 
service to the cause of philology in England, by awakening 
a very general interest in the suliject. But his knowledge of 
the cognate languages was far too circumscribed to warrant 
bis sweeping inductions. In his day, in fact, the accesses had 
not yet been opened up to this new mine, nor the right veins 
struck that have since yielded such rich results. Accord- 
ingly nearly all Tooke's derivations are now discredited, and 
among others his account of prepositions. One or two English 
prepositions, of comparatively recent formation, seem to be 
formed from nouns ; as among, Ang. Sax. gemang or ongemang^ 
gemang meaning " mixture ;" and against, Ang. Sax. on-gegen, 
in which gegen, from its use in cognate dialects, appears to be 

VOL, I. P 



210 NAMING. [CBUIP. IT. 

a noun, though its primary meaning is not very clear. These 
however still involve a preposition which has to be accounted 
for. Between, again, is by twain, '^ near two ;" and except, 
save, during were originally participles in the case abso- 
lute ; '* except this" was originally ** this excepted/' Lat. hoc 
excepto. But the simple prepositions in, of, by belong to the 
radical elements of language, and are more independent of 
nouns and verbs than nouns and verbs are of them. Com- 
parative philology, which did not exist in Tooke*s days, has 
shewn, that, besides predicative roots, as they are called — ^tbat is 
syllables expressive of some action or property, such as '' to 
go," " to eat," ** to be bright," " to speak," &c., which form the 
bases of nouns, adjectives, and verbs — there was a class of roots 
denoting simply relations in space, that is, place or direction 
(here or this, there or that, up, down, away, &c.). It is easy 
to see how the audible marks of such notions, at first, doubt- 
less, vague enough, would be rendered precise and intelligible 
by gesticulations; or perhaps the gesticulations were the 
original signs, and the words mere involuntary exclamations 
accompanying them, and in time taking their place. These 
syllables have been called local, demonstrative, or pronominal 
roots, and play a most important part in language. They are 
joined to other roots to form derivatives of various kinds ; and 
it is of them that the inflexional endings of nouns and verbs 
are built up. Singly or in combination, they constitute the 
pronouns, personal as well as demonstrative. Abstract as are 
now the meanings of /, he, they were once patent to the 
senses ; ma was an emphatic ^* here," calling attention to the 
speaker ; sa or ta, " there, that," something different from 
both speaker and hearer. Most of the prepositions originated 
in roots of this class. The roots of some of them, at least, are 
identical with those of pronouns ; others express direction, and 
thus imply motion. Thus up means, ^* (motion) from below 
to above ;" in the root fr (as in for, from), which is repre- 
sented in Sans. Gr. and Lat. by PR (pro), the ground idea is, 
hiotion or removal from the speaker, in the front direction. Of 
is the Gothic af, Old Ger. aba or apa, Sans, apa, Gr. oiro. 




8BCT. YII.] PREPOSITIONS. 21 1 

Lai. a or ah. It is not easy to determine the precise physical 
relation primarily expressed by this particle ; probably " pro- 
ceeding from/' or '' descending or depending from." If there 
is any connection between of and have^ it is more likely that 
have is derived from of than the reverse. That not a few 
verbs have this kind of origin, is now recognised ; the English 
utter from out is a signal example. 

The primary relations expressed by prepositions were always 
physical or sensible ; but the transition to the abstruse mental 
relations which they now serve to maik (cause, instrumen- 
tality, superiority, &c.) is, as a rule, sufficiently obvious. For 
example, " issuing or proceeding from" passes insensibly into 
** being part of," " belonging to," " in the possession of." — F. 



p2 



212 CONJUNCTIONS. [CHAP. lY. 



SECTION VIII. 



CONJUNCTIONS. 



The Conjunctions are distinguished from the Pre- 
positions, hy connecting Predications ; while the Pre- 
positions connect only Words. 

There are seeming exceptions, however, to this 
description, the nature of which ought to he under- 
stood. They are all of one kind ; they all helong to 
those cases of Predication, in which either the subject 
or the predicate consists of enumerated particulars ; 
and in which the Conjunction is employed to mark 
the enumeration. Thus we say, " Four, and four, 
and two, are ten.** Here the mbjed of the predica- 
tion consists of three enumerated particulars, and the 
conjunction seems to connect words, and not predica- 
tions. In like manner, we say, " His bag was full of 
hares, and pheasants, and partridges." In this last 
case, ihQ predicate is composed of enumerated parti- 
culars. In these instances, the words called con- 
junctions, appear to perform the business of preposi- 
tions, in joining words : and in fact, they may be 
supplied by prepositions. Thus, instead of "four, 
and four, and two, are ten," we may say, " four, with 
four, with two, are ten :" and, in the same way, " His 
bag was full of hares, and pheasants, and partridges," 
may be put " full of hares, with pheasants, with par- 
tridges." And nothing can be more simple than such 
a variety in the use of such words. 



sic*. VIII.] CONJUNCTIONS. 213 

With raeajis Join ; andmesias add^ These are words 
of the same kind, and the same import ; and nothing 
but use has appropriated the one to the joining of 
words rather than predications, the other to the join- 
ing of predications rather than words. 

Our object, however, on the present occasion, is 
distinct, both from that of the grammarian, and that 
of the etymologist. We have shewn, that a set of 
marks are exceedingly useful to connect single words^ 
and by what contrivances this end is accomplished ; 
it remains for us to shew, what use there is of marks 



^ This is according to Tooke's etymology, who traces and, 
to an Ang. Sax. verb anan^ to add. Unfortunately, Anglo- 
Saxon scholars deny that there is such a verb. The nearest 
to it i^unnan^ which means, however, merely ** to wish well to," 
*' to favour." No satisfactory account has been given of arid^ 
but the analogy of other conjunctions would connect it with 
a demonstrative root. J. Grimm is inclined to consider it as 
a nasalised form of the Lat. el ; which in its turn may be an 
inversion of Greek ri, just as ae is of ica). 

All conjunctions are essentially adverbs, and derive their con- 
nective power from their adverbial meaning. This is well seen in 
qUImo^ the radical meaning of which is '' all (quite) in that (the 
same) way." Most of the adverbs used as conjunctions are obvi- 
ously oblique cases of pronouns ; so, as» than, when, where, tum^ 
ubi, quam,quum. In Gothic»7aA,(01d Ger.ja, Finnish ja; of the 
same origin as Eng. yes) takes the place of and, and means ^' in 
that or the same (manner)." TheGr. Ka\ and the Lat. que, *'and/' 
are similarly oblique cases from the root ka, and equivalent to 
"in which or that (manner)." The identity of manner or cir- 
cumstance constitutes the mental bond. It is easy to see how 
a preposition used adverbially and expressing proximity, dis- 
tance, or other relative position, would connect predications (^ 
ideas ; e.g. " After he had lefibed a little^ he began again."— F* 



214 NAMING. [chap. IT. 

to connect Predications ; and by what contrivances 
that object is attained. 

The occasions for the use of marks to connect Pre- 
dications, seem to be of two kinds. 

First, When two Predications are to be marked, as 
following one another. 

Secondly, When they are to be marked, as modified, 
the one by the other. 

1. Those of the first kind need but few words for 
their explanation. 

I may say, "Newton was a mathematician," 
••'Locke was a metaphysician," " Milton was a poet." 
So stated, these Predications do not mark any parti- 
cular order in my thoughts. I desire, however, to 
show, that the ideas thereby expressed, were proximate 
parts of the train in my mind. The word and^ which 
means add, placed between every pair, afibrds the 
requisite indication. 

Like andy the conjimction nor marks predications in 
sequence. It differs from a;?fl?only in uniting negative 
predications. " The act is not honourable, nor is the 
man honest." In this case, it is obvious that nor^ 
whatever its origin, has the meaning of and not. The 
predications then are two negative predications, the 
sequence of which, is marked by the word and. 

But, though it has been otherwise classed, and 
called adversative, is of the same kind, and simply 
marks the sequence. Thus we say, " Catiline was a 
brave man, but Catiline was a wicked man." The 
meaning of but is scarcely diflferent from that of and, 
addition being the fundamental idea signified by both 
of them. The opposition between the two predications 
is signified by the predications themselves, not by the 



SECT. VIII.] CONJUNCTIONS. 216 

connective." In fact, the sense would not be changed, 
if we substituted and for but It is only because, in 
use, but has been commonly confined to the sequence 
of two opposing predications, that the word but is no 
sooner expressed, than an opposing predication is anti- 
cipated. This is a simple case of association. 

2. It is not necessary for us to do more than exem- 
plify the principal cases in which one Predication is 
modified by another. 

" The space is triangular, if it is bounded by three 
straight lines." 

" The space is triangular, because it is bounded by 
three straight lines." 

" The space is bounded by three straight lines, 
therefore it is triangular." 

In each of these three propositions, there are two 
predications ; the one of which is dependent on the 
other. The dependence is that of necessary conse- 
quence. The triangularity is the consequence of 
being bounded by three straight lines. 

In order to have names for two Predications thus 
related, we may call the one the conditioning, the other 
the conditioned. In the above instances, " The space 
is bounded by three straight lines," is the conditioning 

^ This is not strictly correct. But is compounded of the 
two prepositions or local particles hy and out (Ang. Sax. hi 
\Uan) ; and the force of it, in the example given in the text^ 
may be thus paraphrased : '' Catiline was a brave man ; hut 
(]ky, near or beside that fact, put another fact, which is out, 
away, or different from it, namely) Catiline was a wicked 
man." This is something more than a simple case of associa- 
tion ; the opposition is expressed as well as the addition. — F. 



216 NAMING. fCBAB. IV. 

predication j ''The space is triangular/' is the coH" 
ditioned. 

There are two states of the conditioning predica- 
tion ; one^ in which it is contingent ; another, in 
which it is positive. Observe, now, the simple con- 
trivance for marking the dependence of the can- 
ditioned upon the conditioning predication, in all the 
above cases. 

In the first of the examples, " The space is tri- 
angular, if it is bounded by three straight lines,'' the 
conditioning predication is contingent. The word if, 
which is equivalent to ^ve,** prefixed to the condition- 
ing predication, marks it both as the conditioning 
predication, and as contingent. 

In the second of the examples, *' The space is tri- 
angular, because it is bounded by three straight lines." 
the conditioning predication is positive; the word 
because (having the meaning of, cause 6e, or cause isy 
prefixed to it, marks it as at once the conditioning 
predication, and also positive. If for had been the 

^ That if has no connection with give, is manifest firom 
the cognate forms ; Goth, jabai, Frisio jef, Ang. Sax. gif, Old 
Ger. ibu, Lettish ja, all meaning primarily " in which or in 
that case, or supposition." " Jabai — from which the other 
Germanic forms are descended — appears to have originally 
been a dative or instrumental case of ja, analogous to 
tttiya = Latin tibi: compare ibi, vhi^ Gr. /3fy^£, Slavonic 
telje = tibi." — Oamett — F. 

^ The syllable be, in '' because," '' before," &c., is the simple 
preposition by. Sans, abhi, Gr. ctti, " near," " close to." There- 
fore is for that; in which /or is a preposition, meaning pri- 
marily " position in front," and thence, by metaphor, the re- 
lation of motive or cause. — F. 



SECT. VIII.] CONJUNCTIONS. 217 

mark instead of because, the artifice would have been 
still the same, as /or has the meaning of cause. 

In the third of the examples, '' The space is bounded 
by three straight lines, therefore it is triangular ;'* the 
order of the predications is inverted, the conditioning 
being put first. In this case, therefore, we need a 
mark to show that the last predication is conditioned, 
and conditioned by the preceding. This is done by 
prefixing to it the compound word, therefore^ of which 
the first part there is equivalent to that, and fore or for 
means cause. The expression in its elementary form 
being, '' The space is bounded by three straight lines ; 
for that, or cause that, the space is triangular." 

In these cases we have examples of what are called, 
the Suppositive, the Causal, and the Illative con- 
junctions. 

The following are examples of what are called the 
Disjunctive. 

'* The ship was well manned ; else it would have 
been lost.'' 

*' Unless the ship had been well manned, it would 
have been lost." 

In these two examples, the conditioning predica- 
tions are, " The ship was well manned ;' " The ship 
had been well manned :" the conditioned isi, " it would 
have been lost," in both instances. 

The dependence here, between the conditioning and 
conditioned, is that of physical consequence. The 
ship's not being lost, was the consequence of its being 
well manned. The contrivance for marking this 
dependence is akin to that which we have traced in 
the former instance. 

In the first of the two examples, the conditioning 



218 NAMING. [chap. IV. 

predication stands first. How do I mark that the 
next is conditioned^ and conditioned as a physical con- 
sequent ? I interpose the word eke. This is part of 
an obsolete verb, signifying, to dismiss, to turn out, to 
take atoay.^ And the sentence is thus resolved: 
'* The ship was well manned/' take away that (take 
away the cause, the effect is taken away also) " she 
would have been lost." 

Other conjunctions of the disjunctive kind, as they 
are called, would here have answered the same purpose 
with else. " The ship was well maimed, otherwise^ 
she would have been lost." Otherwise here is precisely 
of the same import as else. ''The ship was well 
manned ;" that being dismissed, that being other than 
it was ; "it would have been lost." 

" The ship was well manned, or it would have been 
lost." Or, in German oder, is other. The resolution 
of this sentence, therefore, is the same as the 
former. 

In the second of the two examples, " Unless the ship 
had been well manned, it would have been lost," the 
contrivance is the same, with a mere change of position. 
Unless, is a word of the same import, rather the same 
word, as else. Unless is prefixed to the conditioning 
predication, whereas else is suffixed ; and that is the 
difference."' The word except, which signifies take 

^ Else is the genitive of an obsolete adjective, in Gothic 
alls, corresponding to Lat. alius ; and is analogous with Lat. 
alias. — F. 

^ Unless is simply on less, corresponding to Fr. a moins, 
iiud is equivalent to if not. — F. 



81CT. vm.] CONJUNCTIONS. 219 

away^ may be substituted for ufdeB%. A peculiar 
* application of if {give) may here also be exemplified. 
If with the negative, {if not,) has a similar significa- 
tion with unless, except \ '' If the ship had not been 
well manned, &c/' 

Let us now pass to another case. 

'* Although the ship was well manned, it was lost/^ 
The two predications may chaage places, without 
change of meaning. '' The ship was lost, althouffh it 
was well manned." 

What (as above) was to be marked by ehe^ unless, 
if not, except, and so on, was the connexion between 
a cause and its usual effect ; that is, the manning of 
a ship, and the safety of the ship. What is to be 
marked in this case is the want of connexion between 
a cause and its usual effect. It is done by similar 
means. 

Although is part of an obsolete verb, to allow, to 
grant!^ The two predications are: "The ship was 
well manned," " The ship was lost." I want to mark 
between my two predications not only a connexion, 
that of the antecedence and consequence of the pre- 
dicated events, but the existence of a consequent 
differing from that by which the antecedent is usually 
followed. Although, prefixed to the predication of the 
antecedent event, gives notice of another predication, 
that of the consequent, and of a consequent differing 
from that by which the antecedent might have been 

^ Although is a compound pronominal adverb resembling 
Lat. tamen, and means " (the case being) quite thus 
(yet)."-F. 



220 NAMIKO. [OBAP. IT. 

followed : Grant such an antecedent, such and not 
such was the consequent. 

The same connexion is marked by other conjunc- 
tions. " The ship was well manned, nevertheleaa it 
was lost." Nevertheless, means not less for that.^ *^ Not- 
withstanding the ship was well manned, it was lost." 
Notwithstanding^ is, not being able to prevent^ maugre^ in 
spite of. The resolution of the above sentences is 
obvious. " The ship was well manned, get it was 
lost.'' Yet is the verb get^ and has here the force of 
although, grant. "The ship was well manned, yet 
(or got, that being got, had, granted) it was lost." ^ 
" The ship was well manned, stiU, it was lost." StiU 
is part of an obsolete verb, to put, to fiw, to establish. 
" The ship was well manned, stiU (that put, that sup- 
posed) it was lost." " 

A few more cases will exemplify all that is material 
in the marking power of the conjunctions. 

. " We study, that, we may be learned." The con- 
nexion here, again, is that of cause and eflfect. " We 
study :" " We may be learned," are the two predica- 
tions, between which the connexion in question is to 



•• Nevertheless meaDs literally, " Dot less by (or for) that" 
In this compound the is not the article, but an adverb, in Ang. 
Sax. thy, ** by that much," and corresponds to Lat. eo in the 
expression eo minus. — F, 

^ Yet is of pronominal origin like Gr. in, Ger.jetzt, and 
has no connection with the verb get. — F. 

^ Still seems to be the adjective still, quiet, used adver- 
bially, and having the force of undisturbed, uninterrupted by 
that."— F. 



k 



IICT^ VIJI.] CONJUNCTIOKS. 221 

)6 marked. The demonstrative pronoun performs the 
\ernce. " We may be learned, iAat we study :" we 
rtudy ; what ? to be learned. 

'' John is more learned than James is eloquent/' 
Che conjunction here is a relative term, and consists 
)f the two words, more than. The two predications 
ire, "John is learned," "James is eloquent." The 
annexion between them is, that they are the two 
)arts of a comparison turning upon the point of 
greatness in degree. The two words more thauy suffice 
bo mark that connexion. Than is but a mode of spell- 
ing and pronouncing that, which use has appropriated 
bo this particular case. " John is learned, more that 
[that being the more, the other of course is the less), 
James is eloquent."^ 

As, obsolete as a pronoun, only exists as a con- 
junction. It is a word of the same import with that, 
rhe following will suffice in exemplification of the 
marking property which it retains. " Virgil was as 
^reat a poet as Cicero an orator." The two predica- 
tions are, " Virgil was a great poet," " Cicero was a 
great orator." They also are connected as the two 
parts of a comparison, turning upon the point of 
equality in degree. As, or that, suffices to mark that 
connexion. " Virgil was a great poet," that (namely 
great) Cicero was an orator. We shall see afterwards, 
in the composition of relative terms, that every such 
term consists of two words, or the same word taken twice. 
The conjunction here is a relative term, and consists 

^ Than is only another form of then, and marks that the 
one comes after the other, and is therefore inferior. — F. 



222 NAMING. [chap. I¥. . 

of two words, namely, as, or thaty taken twice. " Vir- 
gil was a poet great, that that, an orator was Cicero ;" 
the first that marking yreat as poet ; the second that, 
marking yreat as orator.^ 



^ As is an oblique case of the demonstrative root «a, and is 
equivalent to '' in this (degree) ;" and the nature of the con- 
nection is this : Virgil was a poet great in this degree ; Cicero 
was an orator great in this degree ; that is, the degree of great- 
ness was the same in both. — F. 



CHAP. Y.] CONSCIOUSNESS. 223 



CHAPTER V. 



CONSCIOUSNESS. 

'' It is not easj for the mind to put off those confused notions 
and prejudices it has imbibed from custom, inadvertency, and 
common conyersation. It requires pains and assiduity to ex- 
amine its ideas, till it resolves them into those clear and distinct 
simple ones out of which they are compounded; and to see 
which, amongst its simple ones, have or have not a necessary 
connexion and dependence one upon another. Till a man doth 
this in the primary and original notions of things, he builds upon 
floating and uncertain principles, and will often find himself at a 
loss." — Loekey Hum, Und. b. ii. c. 13. s. 28. 

It will now be instructive to retrace our steps, to 
look back upon the space we have passed^ and con- 
template the progress we have made toward our 
journey's end. 

We have become acquainted with the elementary 
feelings of our nature ; Jiraty those derived immediately 
from our bodies, whether by impressions made on the 
surface of them, or unseen causes operating on them 
within ; secondly, the feelings which, after the above 
mentioned feelings have ceased, are capable of existing 
as copies or representatives of them. 

We have also observed the manner in which those 
secondary Feelings, to which we have given the name 
of IDEAS, flow, either into groups^ or into trains. And 






224 CON8CIOUSNE8B. [OKtf. ¥. 

we have explored the system of contrivances, to which 
mankind have had recourse, for marking those feel- 
ings, and the trains of them ; so as either to fix the 
knowledge of them for one*s own use, or to make 
communication of them to others. 

In what has been thus already presented, it will be 
seen that several expositions of considerable importance 
are included. 

Sensations, and Ideas, are both feelings. When 
we have a sensation we feel, or have a feeling ; when 
we have an idea we feel, or have a feeling. 

Having a sensation, and having a feeling, are not 
two things. The thing is one, the names only are 
two. I am pricked by a pin. The sensation is one ; 
but I may call it sensation, or a feeling, or a pain, as 
I please. Now, when, having the sensation, I say I 
feel the sensation, I only use a tautological expression : 
the sensation is not one thing, the feeling another ; 
the sensation is the feeling. When, instead of the 
word feeling, I use the word conscious, I do exactly 
the same thing, I merely use a tautological expression. 
To say I feel a sensation, is merely to say I feel a 
feeling ; which is an impropriety of speech. And to 
say I am conscious of a feeling, is merely to say that 
I feel it. To have a feeling is to be conscious ; and 
to be conscious is to have a feeling. To be conscious 
of the prick of the pin, is merely to have the sensa- 
tion. And though I have these various modes of 
naming my sensation, by saying, I feel the prick of a 
pin, I feel the pain of a prick, I have the sensation of 
a prick, I have the feeling of a prick, I am conscious 
of the feeling ; the thing named in all these various 
ways is one and the same* 



DHAF. v.] CONSCIODdNESS. . ^25 

The same explanation will easily be seen to apply 
to IDEAS. Though, at present, I have not the sensa- 
lion, called the prick of a pin, I have a distinct idea 
>f it. The having an idea, and the not having it, are 
listinguished by the existence or non-existence of a 
certain feeling. To have an idea, and the feeling of 
[liat idea, are not two things ; they are one and the 
jame thing. To feel an idea, and to be conscious of 
bhat feeling, are not two things ; the feeling and the 
consciousness are but two names for the same thing. 
In the very word feeling all that is implied in the 
word Consciousness is involved. 

Those philosophers, therefore, who have spoken of 
Consciousness as a feeling, distinct from all other feel- 
ingSy committed a mistake, and one, the evil conse- 
quences of which have been most important ; for, by 
combining a chimerical ingredient \vith the elements 
af thought, they involved their inquiries in confusion 
md mystery, from the very commencement. 

It is easy to see what is the nature of the terms 
DONSCious, and consciousness, and what is the mark- 
ing function which they are destined to perform. It 
evas of great importance, for the purpose of naming, 
that we should not only have names to distinguish 
the different classes of our feelings, but also a name 
ipplicable equally to all those classes. This purpose 
s answered by the concrete term Conscious ; and the 
ibstract of it. Consciousness. Thus, if we are in any 
NBj sentient ; that is, have any of the feelings what- 
loever of a living creature; the word Conscious is 
ipplicable to the feeler, and Consciousness to the 
feeling : that is to say, the words are generical marks, 
under which all the names of the subordinate classes 

VOL. I. q 



I 



226 CONSCIOV8KS88. [cHAP. T. 

of the feelings of a sentient creature are included. 
When I smell a rose, I am conscious ; when I have 
the idea of a fire, I am conscious ; when I remember, 
I am conscious ; when I reason, and when I believe, 
I am conscious; but believing, and being consdous 
of belief, are not two things, they are the same 
thing ; though this same thing I can name, at one 
time without the aid of the generical mark, while 
at another time it suits me to employ the generical 
mark/' ^ 

7^ The mistake of Reid in raising Gonscioasness to a sepa- 
rate faculty has been commented on by Brown, Hamilton, and 
others. It must be allowed that to feel and to be conscious 
are not two things but the same thing : that is to say, the use 
of the term consciousness, whether in common life or in philo- 
sophical discussion, does not point to knowings and ezolnde 
feeling. 

Consciousness is the widest word in our vocabulary. By 
common consent it embraces everything that *' mind" embraces; 
while one mode of extricating the great problem of Perception 
from self-contradictions, makes it mean more than mind strictly 
means. We speak of the object-consciousness as our attitude 
in being cognisant of the extended universe ; while our atti- 
tude under feeling, and thought, we call stibject-consciousness, 
or mind. 

The object-consciousness follows one set of laws, the laws 
of matter and space, as propounded in Mathematics, Natural 
Philosophy, and so on. The subject-consciousness follows a 
different set of laws, such as the laws of pleasure and pain, and 
the association of ideas, treated of in Psychology. We are 
conscious objectively, in counting the stars, we are conscious 
subjectively, in feeling oppressed by their number. 

The subject- consciousness comprises all our feelings and 
thoughts; it enters into volition ; and it makes a part of sen- 
sation, in which both attitudes are conjoined. This conscious- 



IHAP. ▼.] CONSCIOUSNESS. 327 

less may be faint and limited, or it may be intense and varie- 
gated. We may be in a state of pleasure with little or nothing 
f thonght accompanying ; we are still properly said to be 
onsoious or under consciousness. Bnt we may add to the mere 
Bct of pleasure, the cognition of the state, as a state of pleasure, 
ind as a state belonging to us at the time. This is not the 
lame thing as before : it is something new superposed upon 
he previous consciousness. When we take note of the fact 
hat we are pleased, we proceed beyond the bare experience of 
he present pleasure, to an intellectual act of comparison, assi- 
oilation, or classification with past pleasures ; we probably in- 
reduce the machinery of language to express ourselves as 
ileased; all this is so much extra consciousness. These 
mowing operations are not involved in mere feeling ; we may 
eel without them. Indeed, if the cognitive powers are brought 
nto very active exercise upon our feelings, as in the self- 
lissection of the Psychologist, the feelings themselves are apt 
;o subside. 

It is thus correct to draw a line between feeling, and know- 
ng that we feel ; although there is great delicacy in the opera- 
don. It may be said, in one sense, that we cannot feel with- 
mt knowing that we feel, but the assertion is verging on error ; 
br feeling may be accompanied with a minimum of cognitive 
mergy, or as good as none at all ; or it may be accompanied 
irith an express application of our knowing powers, which is 
[Hirely optional on our part, and even hostile to the fiill develop- 
ment of the feeling as feeling, as pleasure or pain. 

Beid wanted a name to express the act of scrutinizing or 
examining the mind, and to correspond with such names as 
Perception, Observation, for the study of the extended or ob- 
leot universe. He used Consciousness for this purpose ; a word 
that had been probably more applied to our cognitive energies 
than to our experience of mere feeling in its simplest manifes- 
^tion. It is not often that " consciousness" is employed as 
the popular designation of states of feeling as such, states of 
narked enjoyment or suffering. On the other hand, the word 
is frequently made use of to designate the act of cognizing or 

<l2 



228 CONSCIOUSNESS. [chap. t. 

thinkiDg of our states of feeling ; for which, however, self- 
consciousness is undoubtedly the more proper appellative. 

Hamilton terms '* consciousness" a '' condition" of oar feel- 
ings and mental operations ; more correctly it is the operations 
themselves ; the consciousness is not the condition of the feel- 
ing, but the feeling itself. More material is the opinion, held 
by Hamilton in common with most of the German philoso- 
phers, that the foundation of all consciousness is knowing; 
that we feel, only as we know that we feel. He says, ** It is 
evident that every mental phenomenon is either an act of 
knowledge, or only possible through an act of knowledge : for 
consciousness is a knowledge — a phenomenon of cognition." 
(" Metaphysics," Lect. xi.) Now although we may not be able 
to rebut this singular assertion by pointing to a state of feel- 
ing such as to entirely exclude knowledge, we may ask, do the 
two properties^ said to be thus implicated, rise and fall in 
steady concomitance ; the more the knowledge, the greater the 
feeling ? The answer must be negative. A favourite doctrine 
of Hamilton, containing a certain amount of truth, affirms an 
inverse ratio between knowing and feeling ; which it is diffi- 
cult to reconcile with the present doctrine. A new distinction 
must be laid down between the kind of knowing that consti- 
tutes ''feeling," and the kind of knowing that constitutes 
*' knowing" in the strict sense of knowledge. We may concede 
to Hamilton that feeling must always be within reach of a 
cognitive exertion, but it cannot be conceded that an actual 
cognitive exertion is essential to the manifestation of the feel- 
ing. Such exertion unless kept within narrow limits of in- 
tensity cools down instead of promoting the emotional state. 

The facts of the case appear to be best represented, by 
allowing the state of Feeling to stand on its own independent 
foundation as a mode of the subject-consciousness, or of mind. 
There may, and almost always does, go along with it a certain 
degree of cognitive effort We can scarcely be under feeling, 
without performing some function of an intellectual kind ; the 
divisions of the mental energies do not imply that they can 
exist in absolute separation. The act of discriminating the 



I 



CHAT, v.] CONSCIOUSNESS. 229 

degree of feeling,— of pronouncing a pleasure to be greater 
than, or eqnal to, some other pleasure, — is properly an intel- 
lectual, or cognitive exercise ; but this discrimination does not 
make the feeling. So a feeling cannot exist without impress- 
ing the memory in some degree, which is an intellectual func- 
tion ; one may truly affirm that we do not feel unless, imme- 
diately afterwards, we remember that we felt. It is an incident 
or concomitant of feeling to leave an impression behind, but 
this does not characterize or define the state of feeling. Being 
an accompaniment or concomitant of an emotional excitement, 
we may point to memory as a proof of its existence and a 
criterion of its degree, but we should confuse all the boundaries 
of mental phenomena, if we treated memory or retentiveness 
otherwise than as an intellectual property, a property whose 
sphere is intellect and not feeling. — B. 

'^^ Those psychologists who think that being conscious of a 
feeling is something different from merely having the feeling, 
generally give the name Consciousness to the mental act by 
which we refer the feeling to ourself ; or, in other words, regard 
it in its relation to the series of many feelings, which consti- 
tutes our sentient life. Many philosophers have thought that 
this reference is necessarily involved in the fact of sensation : 
we cannot, they think, have a feeling, without having the 
knowledge awakened in us at the same moment, of a Self who 
feels it. But of this as a primordial fact of our nature, it is 
impossible to have direct evidence ; and a supposition may be 
made which renders its truth at least questionable. Suppose 
a being, gifted with sensation but devoid of memory ; whose 
sensations follow one after another, but leave no trace of their 
existence when they cease. Could this being have any know- 
ledge or notion of a Self? Would he ever say to himself, / 
feel ; this sensation is mine ? I think not. The notion of a 
Self is, I apprehend, a consequence of Memory. There is no 
meaning in the word Ego or I, unless the I of to-day is also 
the I of yesterday ; a permanent element which abides through 
a succession of feelings, and connects the feeling of each mo- 
ment with the remembrance of previous feelings. We have, no 



230 CONSCIOUSNESS. [chap. ▼. 

doubt, a considerable difficulty in believing that a sentient 
being can exist without the consciousness of Itself. Bat this 
difficulty arises firom the irresistible association which we, who 
possess Memory, form in our early infancy between every one 
of our feelings and our remembrance of the entire series of 
ieelings of which it forms a part, and consequently between 
every one of our feelings and our Self. A slight correction, 
therefore, seems requisite to the doctrine of the author laid 
down in the present chapter. There is a mental process, over 
and above the mere having a feeling, to which the word Con* 
sciousness is sometimes, and it can hardly be said improperly, 
applied, viz. the reference of the feeling to our Self. But this 
process, though separable in thought from the actual feeling, 
and in all probability not accompanying it in the beginning, 
is, from a very early period of our existence, inseparably at- 
tendant on it, though, like many other mental processes, it 
often takes place too rapidly to be remembered at the next 
instant. 

Other thinkers, or perhaps the same thinkers on other occa- 
sions, employ the word Consciousness as almost a synonyme 
of Attention. We all know that we have a power, partly 
voluntary, though often acting independently of our will, of 
attending (as it is called) to a particular sensation or thought 
The essence of Attention is that the sensation or thought is, 
as it were, magnified, or strengthened : it becomes more intense 
as a whole, and at the same time more distinct and definite in 
its various parts, like a visible object when a stronger light is 
thrown upon it : while all other sensations or thoughts which 
do or which might present themselves at the same moment are 
blunted and dimmed, or altogether excluded. This heightening 
of the feeling we may call, if we please, heightening the con- 
sciousness of the feeling ; and it may be said that we are made 
more conscious of the feeling than we were before : but the 
expression is scarcely correct, for we are not more conscious 
of the feeling, but are conscious of more feeling. 

In some cases we are even said to be, by an act of attention, 
made conscious of a feeling of which we should otherwise have 



CHAP. T.] CONSCIOUSNESS. 231 

been anconsoious : and there is much difference of opinion as 
to what it is which really occurs in this case. The point has 
received some consideration in a former Note, but there mav 
be advantage in again recalling it to remembrance. It fre- 
quently happens (examples of it are abundant in the Analysis) 
that certain of our sensations, or certain parts of the series of 
our thoughts, not being sufficiently pleasurable or painful to 
compel attention, and there being no motive for attending to 
them voluntarily, pass off without having been attended to ; 
and, not having received that artificial intensification, they are 
too slight and too fugitive to be remembered. We often have 
evidence that these sensations or ideas have been in the mind ; 
because, during their short passage, they have called up other 
ideas by association. A good example is the case of reading 
from a book, when we must have perceived and recognized the 
visible letters and syllables, yet we retain a remembrance only 
of the sense which they conveyed. In such cases many psy- 
ohologists think that the impressions have passed through the 
mind without our being conscious of them. But to have 
feelings unconsciously, to have had them without being aware, 
is something like a contradiction. All we really know is that 
we do not remember having had them ; whence we reasonably 
conclude that if we had them, we did not attend to them ; and 
this inattention to our feelings is what seems to be here meant 
by being unconscious of them. Either we had the sensations 
or other feelings without attending to them, and therefore 
immediately forgot them, or we never, in reality, had them. 
This last has been the opinion of some of the profoundest 
psychologists. Even in cases in which it is certain that we 
once had these feelings, and had them with a lively conscious- 
ness (as of the letters and syllables when we were only learn- 
ing to read) yet when through numberless repetitions the 
process has become so rapid that we no longer remember 
having those visual sensations, these philosophers think that 
they are elided, — that we cease to have them at all. The usual 
impressions are made on our organs by the written characters, 
and are transmitted to the brain, but these organic states, 



232 CONSCIOUSNESS. [chap. v. 

they think, pass away without having had time to excite the sen- 
sations corresponding to them, the chain of association being 
kept up by the organic states without need of the sensations. 
This was apparently the opinion of Hartley ; and is distinctly 
that of Mr. Herbert Spencer. The conflicting suppositions 
are both consistent with the known facts of our mental nature. 
Which of them is the true, our present knowledge does not, I 
think, enable us to decide. 

The author of the Analysis often insists on the important 
doctrine that we ha^e many feelings, both of the physical and 
of the mental class, which, either because they are permanent 
and unchangeable, or for the contrary reason, that they are 
extremely fugitive and evanescent, and are at the same time 
uninteresting to us except for the mental processes they origi- 
nate, we form the habit of not attending to ; and this habit, 
after a time, grows into an incapacity ; we become unable to 
attend to them, even if we wish. In such cases we are usually 
not aware that we have had the feelings ; yet the author seems 
to be of opinion that we really have them. He says, for ex- 
ample, in the section on Muscular Sensations (ch. i. sect, vii.) 
"We know that the air is continually pressing upon our 
" bodies. But the sensation being continual, without any call 
" to attend to it, we lose from habit, the power of doing so. 
" The sensation is as if it did not exist." Is it not the most 
reasonable supposition that the sensation does not exist; that 
the necessary condition of sensation is change ; that an un- 
changing sensation, instead of becoming latent, dwindles in 
intensity, until it dies away, and ceases to be a sensation ? Mr. 
Bain expresses this mental law by saying, that a necessary 
condition of Consciousness is change ; that we are conscious 
only of changes of state. I apprehend that change is necessary 
to consciousness of feeling, only because it is necessary to 
feeling : when there is no change, there is, not a permanent 
feeling of which we are unconscious, but no feeling at all. 

In the concluding chapter of Mr. Bain's great work, there is 
an enumeration of the various senses in which the word Consci- 
ousness is used. He finds them no fewer than thirteen. — Ed. 



CHAP. VlJ CONCEPTION. 233 



CHAPTER VI. 



CONCEPTION. 

** The generalizations of language are already made for us, 
before we have ourselves begun to generalize; and our mind 
receives the abstract phrases without any definite analysis, almost 
as readily as it receives and adopts the simple names of persons 
and things. The separate co-existing phenomena, and the sepa- 
rate sequences of a long succession of words, which it has been 
fonnd convenient to comprehend in a single word, are hence, 
from the constant use of that single word, regarded by the mind 
almost in the same manner, as if they were only one pheno- 
menon, or one event." — Inquiry into the Relation of Cause and 
liffeet. By Thomas Brown, M,D. Note M, p. 667. 

The philosophers, who erected consciousness into 
what they called a Power of the mind, have bestowed 
the same rank upon conception. 

When we have a Sensation, we are not said, in the 
ordinary nse of the word, to Conceive. If burned 
with the candle, I do not say, " I conceive the pain ;'* 
I do not say, if I smell putrescence, that " I conceive 
the stench." It even seems to be not without a sort 
of impropriety, if the term is ever applied to mark a 
simple Idea. We should not, in ordinary language, 
say, " I conceive red," " I conceive green." We say, 
however, " I con<5eive a horse," ** I conceive a tree," 
'* I conceive a ship ;" we say also, " I conceive an 



234 CONCEPTION. [chap. VI. 

argument/' " I conceive a plan." In these examples, 
which may be taken as a sufficient specimen of the 
manner in which the term Conception is used, we see 
that it is applied exclusively to cases of the secondary 
feelings ; to the Idea, not the Sensation ; and to the 
case of compound, not of single ideas. With this use, 
the etymology of the word very accurately corresponds : 
I conceive, that is, / take together^ a horse ; that is, the 
several ideas, combined under the name horse, and 
constituting a compound idea. The term conception, 
we have seen, applies not only to those combinations 
of ideas, which we call the ideas of external objects, 
but to those combinations which the mind makes for 
its own purposes. 

It thus appears, that the word conception is a 
generical name, like consciousness ; but less compre- 
hensive. We call ourselves conscious, when we have 
any sensation, or any idea. We say that we conceive, 
only when we have some complex idea. It remains 
to be inquired, whether by saying we conceive, or 
have a conception, we mean any thing whatsoever 
beside having an idea. 

If I say, I have the idea of a horse, I can explain 
distinctly what I mean. I have the ideas of the sen- 
sations of sight, of touch, of hearing, of smelling, with 
which the body and actions of a horse have impressed 
me ; these ideas, all combined, and so closely, that 
their existence appears simultaneous, and one. This 
is my IDEA of a horse. If I say, I have a conception 
of a horse, and am asked to explain what I mean, I 
give the same account exactly, and I can give no 
other. My conception of the horse, is merely my 
taking together, in one, the simple ideas of the sensa- 



CHAP. YI.] CONCEPTION. 235 

tions which constitute my knowledge of the horse ; 
and my idea of the horse is the same thing. 

We may notice here, however, one of those curious 
illusions, which the intimate associations of ideas 
with words, so often, and sometimes so inconveniently, 
occasion. The term " I conceive," has the form of an 
active verb ; and with t/ie form of an active verb the 
IDEA OP ACTION is SO frequently conjoined, that we are 
rarely able to separate them. By this means, the 
idea of activeness is often mixed up with other ideas, 
when it is wholly misplaced and illusive. I use the 
same form of expression when I say, I dream ; as when 
I say, I study, I argue, I imagine. In these cases the 
idea of what I call activity is properly included : in 
the expression I dream, it is not properly included ; 
though the active form of the verb so invariably calls 
up a certain idea of activity, and so strongly tends to 
mix it with the other ideas, that in using the term, 
" I dream,'* we seem to consider ourselves as, some- 
how, agents. Even in using the term, " I die," we 
cannot escape the illusion ; though the ideas are so 
highly incongruous. It would be obviously absurd 
to affirm that we are less active when we say we have 
an idea, than when we say we have a conception, yet 
there is constantly a feeling, when we use the phrase 
" I conceive," as if we were in some manner active ; 
and no such feeling, when we use the phrase " I have 
an idea." The terms, therefore, the concrete " con- 
ceive," and its abstract " conception," are somewhat 
inconvenient, and misguiding, as they infuse into the 
complex ideas to which they are applied, an ingredient 
which does not belong to them. 

The relation which the words, consciousness, and 



236 (X)NCEPTION. [CHAF. TI. 

CONCEPTION, bear to one another, is now, therefore, 
apparent. Consciousness is the more yenerical of the 
two names. Conception is the name of a class in^ 
eluded under the name Consciousness. Consciousness 
applies to sensations, and to ideas, whether simple or 
complex ; to all the feelings, whatsoever they may be, 
of our sentient nature. Conception applies only to 
ideas ; and to ideas, only in a state of combination. 
It is a generical name including the several classes of 
complex ideas.'* 

^^ Tbe doctriDe of this chapter is as just as it is admirably 
stated. A conception is nothing whatever but a complex idea, 
and to conceive is to have a complex idea. But as there must 
always have been some cause why a second name is used when 
there is already a first, there is generally some difference in 
the occasions of their employment : and a recognition of this 
difference is necessary to the completeness of the exposition. 
It seems to me that conception and to conceive are phrases ap- 
propriated to the case in which the thing conceived is supposed 
to be something external to my own mind. I am not said to 
conceive my own thoughts ; unless it be in the case of an inven- 
tion, or mental creation ; and even then, to conceive it, means to 
imagine it realized, so that it may be presented to myself or 
others as an external object. To conceive something is to 
understand what it is ; to adapt my complex idea to something 
presented to me objectively. I am asked to conceive an iceberg : 
it is not enough that I form to myself some complex idea; it 
must be a complex idea which shall really resemble an iceberg, 
i,e. what is called an iceberg by other people. My complex 
idea must be made up of the elements in my mind which cor- 
respond to the elements making up the idea of an iceberg in 
theirs. 

This is connected with one of the most powerful and mis- 
leading of the illusions of general language. The purposes of 
general names would not be answered, unless tbe complex idea 




CHAP. VI.] CONCEPTION. 237 

connected with a general name in one person's mind were com- 
posed of essentially the same elements as the idea connected 
with it in the mind of another. There hence arises a natural 
illusion, making us feel as if, instead of ideas as numerous as 
minds, and merely resembling one another, there were one idea, 
independent of individual minds^ and to which it is the business 
of each to learn to make his private idea correspond. This is 
the Platonic doctrine of Ideas in all its purity : and as half 
the speculative world are Platonists without knowing it, hence 
it also is that in the writings of so many psychologists we read 
of the conception or the concept of so and so ; as if there was a 
concept of a thing or of a class of things, other than the ideas 
in individual minds — a concept belonging to everybody, the 
common inheritance of the human race, but independent of any 
of the particular minds which conceive it. In reality, however, 
this common concept is but the sum of the elements which it 
is requisite for the purposes of discourse that people should 
agree with one another in including in the complex idea which 
they associate with a class name. As we shall presently see, 
these are only a part, and often but a small part, of each 
person's complex idea, but they are the part which it is neces- 
sary should be the same in all. — Ed* 



288 IMAGINATION. [CHAP. TH. 



V 



CHAPTER VII. 



IMAGINATION. 

The imaoination is another term, the explanation 
of which will be found to be included in the exposi- 
tions which have previously been given. 

The phenomena classed under this title are ex- 
plained, by modem Philosophers, on the principles of 
Association. Their accounts of the mental process, 
to which the name Imagination is applied, include 
their explanation of the laws of Association, or the 
manner in which ideas succeed one another in a train, 
with little else, except remarks on the causes to which 
diversity in the several kinds of Imagination may be 
traced. 

It is not to be overlooked that the term Imagina- 
tion is here used in the sense which is given to it by 
philosophers when they rank it as a particular power 
of the mind ; for it is no doubt true, that it is often 
used, in vulgar speech, as synonymous with Concep- 
tion, and with Supposition, and with Conjecture ; as 
the verb, to imagine, is, with the verbs, to discover, to 
suppose, conjecture, believe, and perhaps others. 

We have seen that Consciousness, and Conception, 
are names of feelings, taken one by one : Consciousness 



CHAP. VII.] IMAGINATION. 289 

of any of our feelings so taken ; Conception of a parti- 
ciUar class of them, namely, complex ideas. Imagina- 
tion is not a name of any one idea. I am not said 
to imaemie, unless I combine ideas successively in a 
less orVeater number. An imagination, the^fore. 
is the name of a train, I am said to have an imagi- 
nation when I have a train of ideas ; and when I am 
said to imagine, I have the same thing ; nor is there 
any train of ideas, to which the term imagination 
may not be applied. 

In this comprehensive meaning of the word Imagi- 
nation, there is no man who has not Imagination, 
and no man who has it not in an equal degree with 
any other. Every man imagines, nay, is constantly, 
and unavoidably, imagining. He cannot help ima- 
gining. He can no more stop the current of his 
ideas, than he can stop the current of his blood. 

In the phrase we have just employed, " there is no 
man who has not imagination," it is meant, that 
there is no man who now has not, who has not always 
had, and who will not always have a train of ideas. 
Imagination, therefore, is a word connoting indefinite 
time; it is, to use the language of the GFreek gramma- 
rians, aoristical. When it connotes, which by the 
strain of the passage it may be made to do, a par- 
ticular time, it marks a particular train. When it 
connotes time indefinitely, it marks trains indefinitely, 
any train at any time. 

The having or doing a thing at any time, means 
the potentiality of having or doing it. Imagination, 
then, has two meanings. It means either some one 
train, or the potentiality of a train. These are two 
meanings which it is very necessary not to confound. 



240 IMAGINATION. [CHAF. YII. 

There is great diversity of trains. Not only has 
the same individual an endless variety of trains ; but 
a different character belongs to the whole series of 
trains which pass through the minds of different indi^ 
viduals or classes of individuals. The different pur- 
suits in which the several classes of men are engaged, 
render particular trains of ideas more common to 
them than other trains. One man is a merchant ; and 
trains respecting the goods in which he deals, the 
markets in which he buys, .ind those in which he 
sells, are habitual in his mind. Another man is a 
lawyer, and ideas of clients, and fees, and judges, and 
witnesses, and legal instruments, and points of contes- 
tation, and the practice of his court, are habitually 
passing in his mind. Ideas of another kind occupy 
the mind of the physician ; of another kind still, the 
mind of the warrior. The statesman is occupied with 
a train different from that of any of the classes that 
have been mentioned ; and one statesman with a very 
different train from another, according as his mind is 
running upon expedients which may serve the purpose 
of the day, or arrangements which may secure the 
happiness of the population from generation to gene- 
ration. A peculiar character belongs to the train 
which habitually occupies the mind of the mathema- 
tician. The mind of the metaphysician is also occu- 
pied by a train distinguished from that of other 
classes. And there is one man, yet to be mentioned, 
the poet, the peculiarity of whose trains has been a 
subject of particular observation. To such a degree, 
indeed, have the trains of the poet been singled out 
for distinction, that the word Imagination, in a more 
restricted sense, is appropriated to them. We do not 



■\ 



CHAT. VII.] IMAGINATION. 241 

call the trains of the lawyer, or the trains of the mer- 
chant, imagination. We do not speak of them as 
imagining, when they are revolving, each, the ideas 
which belong to his peculiar occupation ; it is only to 
the poet, that the epithet of imagining is applied. 
His trains, or trains analogous to his, are those which 
receive the name of Imagination. 

It is then a question, to which we should find an 
answer, whether, in that by which the trains of the 
poet diflFer from the trains of other men, there be any 
thing which, being wholly absent from that by which 
the trains of other classes are distinguished, lays a 
foundation for this peculiarity of naming. 

The trains of one class differ from those of another, 
the trains of the merchant, for example, from those of 
the lawyer, not in this, that the ideas follow one an- 
other by any other law, in the mind of the one, and 
the mind of the other ; they follow by the same laws 
exactly; and are equally composed of ideas, mixed 
indeed with sensations, in the minds of both. The 
difference consists in this, that the ideas which flow 
in their minds, and compose their trains, are ideas of 
different things. The ideas of the lawyer are ideas of 
the legal provisions, forms, and distinctions, and of 
the actions, bodily, and mental, about which he is con- 
versant. The ideas of the merchant are equally ideas 
of the objects and operations, about which he is con- 
cerned, and the ends toward which his actions are 
directed; but the objects and operations themselves, 
are remarkably different. The trains of poets, also, do 
not differ from the trains of other men, but perfectly 
agree with them, in this, that they are composed of 
ideas, and that those ideas succeed one another, accord- 

VOL. I. R 



242 IMAOINATION. [CHAP. HI. 

ing to the same laws, in their, and in other minds. 
They are ideas, however, of very different things. 
The ideas of the poet are ideas of all that is most 
lovely and striking in the visible appearances of nature, 
and of all that is most interesting in the actions and 
affections of human beings. It thus, however, appears 
most manifestly, that the trains of poets differ from 
those of other men in no other way, than those of 
other men differ from one another ; that they difier 
from them by this only, that the ideas of which they 
are composed, are ideas of different things. There is 
also nothing surprising in this, that, being trains of 
pleasurable ideas, they should have attracted a pecu- 
liar degree of attention ; and in an early age, when 
poetry was the only literature, should have been 
thought worthy of a more particular naming, than 
the trains of any other class. These reasons seem to 
account for a sort of appropriation of the name Imagi- 
nation, to the trains of the poet. An additional 
reason may be seen in another circumstance, which 
also affords an interesting illustration of a law of asso- 
ciation already propounded ; namely, the obscuration 
of the antecedent part of a train, which leads to a 
subsequent, more interesting than itself. In the case 
of the lawyer, the train leads to a decision favourable 
to the side which he advocates. The train has no- 
thing pleasurable in itself The pleasure is aU derived 
from the end. The same is the case with the mer- 
chant. His trains are directed to a particular end. 
And it is the end alone, which gives a value to the 
train. The end of the metaphysical, and the end of 
the mathematical inquirer, is the discovery of truth : 



CHAF, VII.] IMAGINATION, 243 

their trains are directed to that object ; and are, or 
are not, a source of pleasure, as that end is or is not 
attained. But the case is perfectly different with the 
poet. His train is its own end. It is all delightful, 
or the purpose is frustrate. From the established laws 
of association, this consequence unavoidably followed ; 
that, in the case of the trains of those other classes, 
the interest of which was concentrated in the end, 
attention was withdrawn from the train by being fixed 
apon the end ; that in the case of the poet, on the 
other hand, the train itself being the only object, and 
that pleasurable, the attention was wholly fixed upon 
the train ; that hence the train of the poet was pro- 
vided with a name ; that in the cases of the trains of 
other men, where the end only was interesting, it was 
thought enough that the end itself should be named, 
the train was neglected. 

In conformity with this observation, we find, that 
wherever there is a train which leads to nothing be- 
yond itself, and has any pretension to the character 
of pleasurable (the various kinds of reverie, for ex- 
ample), it is allowed the name of Imagination. Thus 
we say that Rousseau indulged his imagination, when, 
as he himself describes it, lying on his back, in his 
boat, on the little lake of Bienne, he delivered himself 
up for hours to trains, of which, he says, the pleasure 
surpassed every other enjoyment. 

Ftofessor Dugald Stewart has given to the word 
Imagination, a technical meaning ; without, as it ap- 
pears to me, any corresponding advantage. He con- 
fines it to the cases in which the mind forms new 
oombinations ; or, as he calls them, creations ; that is, 

r2 




244 IMAGINATION. [chap. TII. 

to cases in which the ideas which compose the train 
do not come together in the same combinations id 
which sensations had ever been received. But this is 
no specific difference. This happens, in every train 
of any considerable length, whether directed to any 
end, or not so directed. It is implied in every wish 
of the chUd to fly, or to jump over the bouse ; in a 
large proportion of all his playful expressions, as pusa 
in boots, a hog in armour, a monkey preaching, and 
so on. It is manifested in perfection in every dream. 
It is well known that, for the discovery of truths in 
philosophy, there is a demand for new trains of 
thought, multitudes of which pass in review before 
the mind, are contemplated, and rejected, before the 
happy combination is attained, in which the discovery 
is involved. If imagination consists in bringing trains 
before the mind involving a number of new combina- 
tions, imagination is probably more the occupation of 
the philosopher than of the poet. 

Mr. Stew^ appears not to have understood the 
real distinction between the use of the words Concep- 
tion, and Imagination ; that the one is the name of a 
single idea, the other that of a train. He also in- 
volves, without seeming to be wholly aware of it, the 
idea of a train destined to a particular end in the 
meaning which he bestows on the word Imagination. 
Imagination is with him, not the name of a train 
having merely new combinations, but of a train hav- 
ing new combinations, and those destined to some 
end But this is not more the character of the trains 
which belong to the painter and the poet, as his lan- 
guage appears to imply, than it is of the lawyer, or 
the metaphysician ; or, indeed, the professors of many 



CHAP. VII.] IMAGINATION. 245 

of the vulgar arts ; the tailor, for example, and the 
mantua-maker.^^ 



^ The foregoiDg analysis of the Imagination brings to 
view some of the important points of distinction between it 
and the other faculties ; for example, the circumstance that the 
trains and constructions of the Imagination are their own ends, 
and not a means to farther ends, as in the constructions of 
science and of the industrial arts. All creative originality is 
not imagination ; the steam-engine was not a product of this 
faculty. 

The main features that distinguish the Imagination seem to 
be these three : — 

1. It is a faculty of the Concrete, like Perception and 
Memory, and not of the Abstract, as the scientific faculties. 
When we imagine a thing, we picture it to the mind, as far as 
we are able, in its full concrete reality. Our imagination of a 
scene in the tropics is of the character of an actual perception ; 
it embraces, or should embrace, whatever would strike the view 
of any one surveying the reality. 

2. Imagination rises above Perception and Memory, in being 
a Constructive faculty. It alters, re-arranges, puts together 
the materials of perception and memory to satisfy certain de- 
mands of the mind. In this respect, it is more than Concep- 
tion, which as viewed by the author, is also a faculty of the 
concrete, but introduces no novelty of combination. Concep- 
tion may involve a great constructive eflfort, as when we try to 
picture to ourselves a poet's creation by the help of his lan- 
guage ; nevertheless, the term imagination loses its charac- 
teristic force, and leaves an important meaning without a name, 
if applied to this conceiving or realizing efibrt. The imagina- 
tive stretch belongs to the poet or artist ; the power of con- 
ceiving is what the reader of a poem brings into exercise. 

3. Imagination is swayed by some present emotion. This 
is another way of expressing the author's view that it is an end 
in itself. If we were to use the general word " feeling," 
we should encounter the difficulty of separating imagination 



246 IMAGINATION. [cHAP. VII. 

from common industry, which is all intended to gain pleasures 
or ward off pains. 

The brief designation " present emotion" approximates to, 
but does not fully bring out, the precise operation of the feel- 
ings in the constructions of Imagination. When, actuated by 
the love of the marvellous, any one invents a fabulous story, 
or highly exaggerates a real occurrence, the process is a typical 
instance of the imaginative workings. 

The Fine Arts are the domain of Imagination ; the one goes 
far to specify the other. If the coincidence were exact, Ima- 
gination would be defined by a definition of the iEsthetic emo- 
tions. Now, although any original construction, selected and 
put together to gratify an Esthetic emotion, is a work of Ima- 
gination, yet imagination is not exhausted by fine art The 
picture that an angry man draws of his enemy would be called 
an effort of imagination, but not a work of fine art. All our 
emotions, — Wonder, Fear, Love, Anger, Vanity — determine the 
constructions of the intellect, when called into active exercise ; 
and for these constructions we have no other name but imagi- 
nation, whether they may, or may not give pleasure as works of 
art. 

Perhaps this exceptional region may be marked out by a 
statement of the perverting influence, or bias, of the feelings 
in matters of truth and falsehood, or in works of utility. 
When the true and the useful, instead of being determined by 
their own ends, or their proper criteria, are swayed by ex- 
traneous emotions — giving birth to mythical or fictitious crea- 
tions — we have the corrupting substitution of Imagination for 
Reason in mens judgments and opinions. 

Thus, Fear is a potent spur to Imagination ; its creations 
may not be cesthetically agreeable, and therefore may not come 
under the definition of Fine Art ; yet they are fairly to be de- 
scribed as perverting the judgment of true and false. — B. 



CHAF, VIII.] CLASSIFICATION. 247 



CHAPTER VIII. 



CLASSIFICATION. 

" Dans Tordre historique, la philosophie transcendante a de- 
Yaiic6 la philosophie el^mentaire. II ne faut point 8*en etonner ; 
lea grands problemes de la m^taphjsique et de la morale se pre- 
sentent k Thomrae, dans Venfance meme de son intelligence, avec 
une grandeur et une obscurity qui le s^duisent et qui I'attirent. 
L'homme, qui se sent fait pour connoitre, court d*abord k la verity 
avec plus d*ardeur que de sagesse ; il cherche a deviuer ce qu'il 
ne peut comprendre, et se perd dans des conjectures absurdes 
ou t^m^raires. Les theogonies et les cosmogonies sont ant^rieures 
k la saine physique, et Tesprit humain a pass^ k travers toutes 
les agitations et les delires de la metaphjsique transcendante, 
arant d'arriver a la psjchologie." — Cousin, Frag. Philos, p. 75. 

The process by which we connect what we call the 
objects of our senses, and also our ideas, into certain 
aggregates called classes, is of too much importance 
not to have attracted the attention of those who have 
engaged in the study of mind. Yet it is doubtful, 
whether metaphysicians have regarded classification 
as an original power of the mind, or have allowed that 
what is included under that name might be resolved 
into simpler elements. The term Abstraction, I think, 
they have generally taken as the name of a distinct, 
and original, power, not susceptible of further analysis. 
But, in doing so, it seems (for the language of writers 



248 CLASSIFICATION. [cHAP. VIIL 

is too loose on this subject, to allow us the use of more 
affirmative terms), they have restricted the name to 
the power of forming such ideas as are represented by 
the terms, hardness, softness, length, breadth, space, 
and so on. And this operation they rather consider 
as subservient to classification, than as that operation 
itself. The process, however, of grouping individuals 
into classes, has been regarded as sufficiently mys- 
terious. The nature of it has been the object of deep 
curiosity; and the erroneous opinions which were 
entertained of it bewildered, for many ages, the most 
eminent philosophers ; and enfeebled the human mind. 

What (it was inquired) is that which is really done 
by the mind, when it forms individuals into classes ; 
separates such and such things from others, and re- 
gards thera, under a certain idea of unity, as some- 
thing by themselves ? Why is the segregation thought 
of ? And for what end is it made ? These questions 
all received answers; but it was many ages before 
they received an answer approaching the truth ; and 
it is only necessary to read with care the writings of 
Plato and of Aristotle, and of all philosophers, with 
very few exceptions, from theirs to the present time, 
to see, that a misunderstanding of the nature of Gene- 
ral Terms is that which chiefly perplexed them in 
their inquiries, and involved them in a confusion, 
which was inextricable, so long as those terms were 
unexplained. 

The process in forming those classes was said to be 
this. The Mind leaves out of its view this, and that, 
and the other thing, in which individuals differ from 
one another ; and retaining only those in which they 
all agree, it forms them into a class. But What is 



CHAP. VIII.] CLASSIFICATION. 249 

this forming of a class ? What does it mean ? When 
I form a material aggregate ; when I collect a library ; 
when I build a house ; when I even raise a heap of 
stones ; I move the things, whatever they may be, 
and place them, either regularly or irregularly, in a 
mass together. But when I form a class, I perform 
no operation of this sort. I touch not, nor do I in 
any way whatsoever act upon the individud,ls which I 
class. The proceeding is all mental. Forming a 
class of individuals, is a mode of regarding them. But 
what is meant by a mode of regarding things ? This 
is mysterious ; and is as mysteriously explained, when 
it is said to be the taking into view the particulars 
in which individuals agree. For what is there, which 
it is possible for the mind to take into view, in that 
in which individuals agree ? Every colour is an indi- 
vidual colour, every size is an individual size, every 
shape is an individual shape. But things have no 
individual colour in common, no individual shape in 
common, no individual size in common ; that is to 
say, they have neither shape, colour, nor size in com- 
mon. What, then, is it which they have in common, 
which the mind can take into view? Those who 
affirmed that it was something, could by no means 
tell. They substituted words for things ; using vague 
and mystical phrases, which, when examined, meant 
nothing. Plato called it iSia, Aristotle, elSoc, both, 
words taken from the verb to see ; intimating, some- 
thing as it were seen, or viewed, as we call it. At 
bottom, Aristotle's cISoc, is the same with Plato's JSca, 
though Aristotle makes a great affair of some very 
trifling differences, which he creates and sets up be- 
tween them. The Latins, translated both ISia, and 



250 CLASSIFICATION. [cHAP. YIH. 

€(8oc, by the same words, and were very mucli at a 
loss for one to answer the purpose ; they used species^ 
derived in like manner from a verb to see, but which, 
having other meanings, was ill adapted for a scientific 
word ; they brought, therefore, another word in aid, 
formay the same with opaixa, derived equally from a verb 
signifying to see, which suited the purpose just as 
imperfectly as species ; and as writers used both terms, 
according as the one or the other appeared best to 
correspond with their meaning, they thickened by this 
means the confusion. 

After a time, unfortunately a long time, it began 
to be perceived, that what was thus represented as 
the object of the mind in the formation of classes, 
was chimerical and absurd ; when a set of inquirers 
appeared, who denied the existence of all such objects, 
affirmed that ideas were all individual, and that no- 
thing was general but names. The question rose to 
the dignity of a controversy ; and to the hateful vio- 
lence of a religious controversy. They who affirmed 
the existence of general ideas were called Bealists, 
they who denied their existence Nominalists. There 
can be no doubt, that of the two the Nominalists ap- 
proached, by far, the nearest to the truth ; and their 
speculations tended strongly to remove from mental 
science the confusion in which the total misapprehen- 
sion of abstract terms had involved it. But the 
clergy brought religion into the quarrel, and as usual 
on the wrong side. Eealism was preached as the 
doctrine which alone was consistent with orthodoxy ; 
the Nominalists were hunted down ; and persecution, 
well knowing her object, clung to the books as well 
as the men ; so that the books of the Nominalists, 



CHAP. VIII.] CLASSIFICATION. 251 

thougli the art of printing tended strongly to preserve 
them, were suppressed and destroyed, to such a de- 
gree, that it is now exceedingly difficult to collect 
them ; and not easy to obtain copies even of the most 
remarkable. 

The opinion, that the particulars in which the in- 
dividuals of a class agree were distinct Objects of the 
Mind, soon made them distinct existences ; they were 
the Essence of things ; the Eternal Exemplars, ac- 
cording to which individual things were made ; they 
were called universals, and regarded as alone the 
Objects of the Intellect. They were invariable, always 
the same ; individuals, not the objects of intellect but 
only the low objects of sense, were in perpetual flux, 
and never, for any considerable period, the same. 
Universals alone had Unity; they alone were the 
subject of science; Individuals were innumerable, 
every one different from another; and cognoscible 
only by the lower, the sensitive part of our nature. 

Endless were the subtleties into which ingenious 
men were misled, in the contemplation of those Fic- 
tions ; and wonderful were the attributes which they 
bestowed upon them. " It is, then, on these perma- 
nent Phantasms." says Mr. Harris, copying the ancient 
Philosophers, " that the human mind first works, and 
by an energy as spontaneous and familiar to its nature, 
as the seeing of colour is fiamiliar to the eye, it dis- 
cerns at once what in many is one ; what in things 
dissimilar and different is similar and the same. 
By this it comes to behold a kind of superior Objects ; 
a new Bace of Perceptions, more comprehensive than 
those of sense; a Eace of Perceptions, each one of 
which^ may be found entire and whole in the separate in- 



252 CLASSIFICATION. [CHAP. vni. 

dividuals of an infinite and jleeting multitude^ without 
departing from the unity and permanence of its own 
fiature*'* Here we have something suflSciently mys- 
tical; a thing which is, at once, one, and mant; 
which is ONE, it seems, by its very nature, and yet 
may exist, entire and whole, in the separate individuals 
of an infinite multitude. This is a specimen of their 
Doctrine ; a specimen of what they call the sublime 
in Intellection. 

But this is not all. For as, when we form a minor 
class, as man, there is a certain one, the object of 
intellect, complete in every individual ; many, there- 
fore, and at the same time, one ; so when we form a 
larger class, animal, there is a certain one, the object 
of intellect, complete in every one of those individuals. 
And when we go still higher, as to the grand class, 
BODY, there is always a one, the object of intellect, 
complete in every one of those more numerous indi- 
viduals. When we mount up to the very summit, 
and embrace all things in one class, being, there is in 
like manner a one, the object of intellect, complete in 
every individual that exists. This is the grand one ; 
the one pre-eminently. This is the one ; ro iv\ one- 
ness; ONE in the abstract. This was a conception 
deemed truly sublime. The loftiest epithets were be- 
stowed upon TO ei/, the ONE. It was divine ; it was 
more than that ; for being not concrete, but abstract, 
it was DIVINITY. All things were contained in the 
ONE ; and the one was in all things. The one was 
the source and principle of Being. It was immutable, 
eternal. 

* Hermes, b. iii. ch. 4. 




CHAP. VIll.] CLASSIFICATION. 253 

These ones they also called by the names of Internal 
Ibrms, and Intelligible Forms, Thus Harris : " Let us 
suppose any man to look for the first time upon 80?ne 
Work of Art ; as, for example, upon a Clock ; and, 
having sufficiently viewed it, at length to depart. 
Would he not retain, when absent, an Idea of what 
he had seen ? And what is it, to retain suck Idea ? 
It is to have a Form internal correspondent to the 
EXTERNAL ; Only with this difierence, that the Internal 
Form is devoid of the Matter ; the External is united 
with it, being seen in the metal, the wood, and the 
like. Now, if we suppose this Spectator to view many 
such Machines, and not simply to view, but to consider 
every part of them, so as to comprehend how those 
parts all operate to one End, he might be then said 
to possess a kind of intelligible Form, by which he 
would not only understand and know the clocks, which 
he had seen already, but every Work, also, of like 
Sort, which he might see hereafter'' 

We might here remark upon the mystical jargon, 
which is thus employed to obscure the simple fact, 
that after a man has seen an individual of a particular 
kind he has the idea of that individual ; and after he 
has seen various individuals of the same kind, he has 
ideas of the various individuals, and has them com- 
bined by association. But we must hear Mr. Karris 
a little further. 

After telling us that there are two orders of these 
immutable intelligible Forms ; one belonging to the 
Contemplator of objects, and subsequent to their 
existence; flf^ioM^r belonging to the Maker of them, 
being the archetype, according to which they were 
formed ; he thus proceeds : " The whole visible 




264 CLASSIFICATION. [cHAP. VIII. 

WORLD, exhibits nothing more than so many passing 
pictures of these immutable archettpes. Nay, 
through these it attains even a Semblance of Immor- 
tality, and continues throughout ages to be specifi- 
cally ONE, amid those infinite particular changes, 
that befall it every moment. May we be allowed 
then to credit those speculative men, who tell us, it is 
in these permanent and comprehensive Forms that the 
Deitt views at once^ without looking abroad^ all possible 
productions both present, past, and future ; that this great 
and stupendous view is but a view of himself where all 
things lie enveloped in their Principles and Exemplars, as 
being essential to the fulness of this universal InteU 
lection ?^* 

I shall exhibit but one other specimen of the mode 
of speculating about these imaginary Beings, from 
another great master of the ancient philosophy, Cud- 
worth. Both Aristotle and Plato, he says, "acknow- 
ledged two sorts of Entities, the one mutable, or subject 
to Hux and motion, such as are especially individual 
coi'poreal things ; the other immutable, that always 
rest or stand still, which are the proper objects of 
certain, constant, and immutable knowledge, that 
therefore cannot be mere nothings, non-entities. 

" Which latter kind of being, that is, the immu- 
table essence, as a distinct thing from individual sensi- 
bles, Aristotle plainly asserts against Heraclitus, and 
those other flowing philosophers in these words ; ' We 
would have these philosophers to know, that beside^ 
sensible things that are always mutable, there is 
another kind of being or entity of such things as are 
neither subject to motion, corruption, nor generation.' 
And elsewhere he tells us, that this immovable essence 



CHAP. VIII.] CLASSIFICATION. 255 

is the object of theoretical knowledge, of the first 
philosophy, and of the pure mathematics. 

"Now these immutable entities are the universal 
rationes^ or intelligible natures and essences of all 
things, which some compare to unities, but Aristotle 
to numbers; which formally considered, are indivi- 
sible : saith he, * The essences of things are like to 
numbers / because if but the least thing be added to 
any number, or subtracted from it, the number is 
destroyed. 

" And these are the objects of all certain knowledge. 
As for example, the objects of geometry are not any 
individual material triangles, squares, circles, pyra- 
mids, cubes, spheres, and the like ; which because they 
are always mutable, nothing can be immutably affirmed 
of them ; but they are those indivisible and unchange- 
able rationes of a triangle, square, circle ; which are 
ever the same to all geometricians, in all ages and 
places, of which such immutable theorems as these 
are demonstrated, as that a triangle has necessarily 
three angles equal to two right angles. 

" But if any one demand here, where this aic/i/i^roc 
ovffia, these immutable entities do exist ? I answer, 
first, that as they are considered formally, they do not 
properly exist in the individuals without us, as if they 
were from them imprinted upon the understanding, 
which some have taken to be Aristotle's opinion ; be- 
cause no individual material thing is either universal 
or immutable. And if these things were only lodged 
in the individual sensibles, then they would be un- 
avoidably obnoxious to the fluctuating waves of the 
same reciprocating Euripus, in which all individual 
material things are perpetually whirled. But because 



256 CLASSIFICATION. [CHAP. VIII. 

they perish not together with them, it is a certain 
argument that they exist independently upon them. 
Neither in the next place, do they exist somewhere 
else apart from the individual sensibles, and without 
the mind, which is that opinion that Aristotle justly 
condemns, but either unjustly or unskilfully attributes 
to Plato. For if the mind looked abroad for its objects 
wholly without itself, then all its knowledge would be 
nothing but sense and passion. For to know a thing 
is nothing else but to comprehend it by some inward 
ideas that are domestic to the mind, and actively ex- 
erted from it. Wherefore these intelligible ideas or 
essences of things, those forms by which we under- 
stand all things, exist no where but in the mind itself ; 
for it was very well determined long ago by Socrates, 
in Plato's Parmenides, that these things are nothing 
but noemata : ' these species or ideas are all of them 
nothing but noe)nata, or notions that exist no where 
but in the soul itself.' Wherefore, to say that there 
are immutable natures and essences, and rationes of 
things, distinct from the individuals that exist vrith- 
out us, is all one as if one should say, that there is in 
the universe above the orb of matter and body, 
another superior orb of intellectual being, that com- 
prehends its own immediate objects, that is, the im- 
mutable rationes and ideas of things within itself, 
by which it understands and knows all things vrithout 
itself. 

" And yet notwithstanding though these things 
exist only in the mind, they are not therefore mere 
figments of the understanding : for if the subjects of all 
scientifical theorems were nothing but figments, then 
all truth and knowledge that is built upon them would 




CHAP. VniJ CLASSIFICATION. 257 

be a mere fictitious thing ; and if truth itself, and the 
intellectual nature be fictitious things, then what can 
be real or solid in the world ? But it is evident, that 
though the mind thinks of these things at pleasure, 
yet they are not arbitrarily framed by the mind, but 
have certain, determinate, and immutable natures 
of their own, which are independent upon the mind, 
and which are not blown away into nothing at the 
pleasure of the same being that arbitrarily made 
them. 

" But we all naturally conceive that those things 
have not only an eternal, but also a necessary exis- 
tence, so that they could not ever but be, such and so 
many as they are, and can never possibly perish or 
cease to be, but are absolutely undestroyable. 

" Which is a thing frequently acknowledged in the 
writings of both those famous philosophers, Plato and 
Aristotle. The former of them calling those things, 

* things that were never made, but always are,* and 

* things that were never made, nor can be destroyed.' 

* Things ingenerable and unperishable ;' Qua Plato 
ne^at fftffni sed seniper esse (as Tully expresseth it) et 
ratione et intelligentia contineri. And Philo the Pla- 
tonical Jew, calls the ra Noiyro, which are the same 
things we speak of, avayKaiorarai oixjiai, the most neces- 
sary essences, that is, such things as could not but be, 
and cannot possibly not be. And Aristotle himself 
calls the rationes of things in his metaphysics, not 
only yypiara and cLKivrtra, things separate from matter 
and immutable, but also aiSi a, or eternal ; and in his 
ethics likewise, he calls geometrical truths aiSia, eternal 
things, 1. 3, c. 5 ; ' where he makes the geometrical 
truth concerning the incommensurability betwixt the 

VOL. I. 8 




258 CLASSIFICATION. [CHAP. VHI. 

diameter and the side of a square, to be an eternal 
thing.' Elsewhere he tells us, that 'Science, pro- 
perly so called, is not of things cohniptible and con- 
tingent,' but of things necessary, incorruptible and 
eternal. Which immutable and eternal objects of 
science, in the place before quoted, he described thus : 
* Such a kind of entity of things has neither motion 
nor generation, nor corruption,' that is, such things 
as were never made, and can never be destroyed. To 
which, he saith, the mind is necessarily determined. 
For science or knowledge has nothing either of fiction 
or of arbitrariness in it, but is ' the comprehension 
of that which immutably is.' 

"Moreover, these things have a constant being, 
when our particular created minds do not actually 
think of them, and therefore they are immutable in 
another sense likewise, not only because they are 
indivisibly the same when we think of them, but also 
because they have a constant and never-failing entity ; 
and always are. whether our particular minds think 
of them or not. For the intelligible natures and 
essences of a triangle, square, circle, pyramid, cube, 
sphere, &c., and all the necessary geometrical verities 
belonging to these several figures, were not the crea- 
tures of Archimedes, Euclid, or Pythagoras, or any 
other inventors of Geometry; nor did then first 
begin to be ; but all these rationes and verities had a 
real and actual entity before, and would continue still, 
though all the geometricians in the world were quite 
extinct, and no man knew them or thought of them. 
Nay, though all the material world were quite swept 
away, and also all particular created minds annihi- 
lated together with it ; yet there is no doubt but the 



CHAP. VIII.] CLASSIFICATION. 259 

intelligible natures or essences of all geometrical 
figures, and the necessary verities belonging to them, 
would notwithstanding remain safe and sound. Where- 
fore these things had a being also before the material 
world and all particular intellects were created. For 
it is not at all conceivable, that ever there was a time 
when there was no intelligible nature of a triangle, 
nor any such thing cogitable at all, and when it was 
not yet actually true that a triangle has three angles 
equal to two right angles, but that these things were 
afterward arbitrarily made and brought into being out 
of an antecedent nothing or non-entity ; so that the 
being of them bore some certain date, and had a 
youngness in them, and so by the same reason might 
wax old, and decay again; which notion he often 
harps upon, when he speaks of the ''EiSiy, or forms of 
things, as when he says, * there is no generation of 
the essence of a sphere,' that is, it is a thing that is 
not made; but always is: and elsewhere he pro- 
nounces universally of the ''EiSiy, * The forms of mate- 
rial things are without generation and corruption/ 
and ' that none makes the form of any thing, for it is 
never generated.' Divers have censured Aristotle in 
some of such passages too much to confound physics 
and metaphysics together; for indeed these things 
are not true in a physical, but only in a metaphysical 
sense. That is, the immediate objects of intellection 
and science, are eternal, necessarily existent, and 
incorruptible."* 

Under the influence of such notions as these, men 

* "A Treatise concerning Eternal and Immutable Morality. 
By Kalph Cudworth, D.D."— pp. 241—250. 

S2 



260 CLA88IFICATIOK. [CHAP. Vni: 

were led away from the real object of Classification ; 
which remained, till a late period in metaphysics in- 
quiry, not at all understood. Yet the truth appears 
by no means difficult to find, if we only observe the 
steps, by which the mind acquires its knowledge, 
and the exigencies which give occasion to the contri- 
vances to which it resorts. 

Man first becomes acquainted with individuals. 
He first names individuals. But individuals are in- 
numerable, and he cannot have innumerable names. 
He must make one name serve for many individuals. 
It is thus obvious, and certain, that men were led to 
class Solely for the purpose of economizing in the use 
of names. Could the processes of naming and dis- 
course have been as conveniently managed by a name 
for every individual, the names of classes, and the 
idea of cLsification, would never We existed. But 
as the limits of the human memory did not enable 
men to retain beyond a very limited number of 
names ; and even if it had, as it would have required 
a most inconvenient portion of time, to run over in 
discourse, as many names of individuals, and of indi- 
vidual qualities, as there is occasion to refer to in 
discourse, it was necessary to have contrivances of 
abridgment ; that is, to employ names which marked 
equaUy a number of individuals, with all their sepa- 
rate properties ; and enabled us to speak of multitudes 
at once.^ 



^^ The doctrine that ^' men were led to class solely for the 
purpose of ecoDomiziog in the use of names/' is here reasserted 
in the most unqualified terms. The author plainly says that 
if our memory had been sufficiently vast to contain a name 



GHAP. YIU.] CLASSIFICATION. g6l 

It was impossible that this process should not be 
involyed in obscurity, and liable to great misapprehen- 

for every individual, the names of classes and tbe idea of 
classification would never have existed. Yet how (I am obliged 
to ask) could we have done without them ? We could not 
have dispensed with names to mark the points in which different 
individuals resemble one another : and these are class- 
names. The fact that we require names for the purpose of 
making affirmations — of predicating qualities — is in some 
measure recognised by tbe author, when he says '' it would have 
required a most inconvenient portion of time to run over in 
discourse as many names of individuals and of individual 
qualities as there is occasion to refer to in discourse." But 
what is meant by an individual quality ? It is not individtuil 
qoalities that we ever have occasion to predicate. It is true 
that the qualities of an object are only the various ways in 
which we or other minds are a£Pected by it, and these affections 
ue not the same in different objects, except in the sense in 
which the word same stands for exact similarity. But we 
never have occasion to predicate of an object the individual and ' 
instantaneous impressions which it produces in us. The only 
meaning of predicating a quality at all, is to afi&rm a resem- 
blance. When we ascribe a quality to an object, we intend 
to assert that the object affects us in a manner similar to that 
in which we are affected by a known class of objects. A 
quality, indeed, in the custom of language, does not admit of 
individuality : it is supposed to be one thing common to 
many ; which, being explained, means that it is the name of a 
resemblance among our sensations, and not a name of the 
individual sensations which resemble. Qualities, therefore, 
oannot be predicated without general names; nor, conse- 
quently, without classification. Wherever there is a general 
name there is a class : classification, and general names, are 
things exactly coextensive. It thus appears that, without 
classification, language would not fulfil its most important 
function. Had we no names but those of individuals, the 




262 CLASSIFICATION. [CHAF. Yin. 

sion, so long as the manner, in which words become 
significant, was unexplained. After this knowledge 
was imparted, and pretty generally diffused, the value 
of it seemed for a long time to be little understood. 

Words become significant purely by association, 

A word is pronounced in conjunction with an idea; 

it is pronounced again and again ; and, by degrees, 

the idea and the word become so associated, that the 

one can never occur without the other. To take firs! 

the example of an individual object. The word, St 

Paul's, has been so often named in conjunction witl 

the idea of a particular building, that the word, St 

Paul's, never occurs without calling up the idea of the 

building, nor the idea of the building without calling 

up the name, St. Paul's. The effect of association ii 

similarly exemplified in connecting the visible marl 

with the audible. Children learn first to speak. Thej 

learn next to read. In learning to speak, they asso 

ciate the audible mark with their sensations and ideas 

the sound tree is associated with the sight of th< 

tree, or the idea of the tree. In learning to read, i 

new association has to be formed. The written loori 

is a visible sign of the audible sign. What reading 

accomplishes, by degrees, is, to associate the visibi 

sign so closely with the audible, that at the same in 

stant with the sight of the word the sound of it, an< 

with the sound of it the sense, occurs. 

After the explanations which have been already 

names might serve as marks to bring those individuals i 
mind, but would not enable us to make a single assertioi 
respecting them, except that one individual is not anothei 
Not a particle of the knowledge we have of them could be ex 
pressed in words. — Ed. 



CHAP. VIU.] CLASSIFICATION. 263 

given, no diflSculty can remain about the manner in 
whicli names come to signify the individuals of which 
they are appointed to be the marks. 

Let us now, proceeding to the simplest cases first, 
and by them expounding such as are more complicated, 
suppose that our name of one individual is applied to 
another individual. Let us suppose that the word, 
foot, has been first associated in the mind of the child 
with one foot only ; it will in that case call up the 
idea of that one, and not of the other. Here is one 
name, and one thing named. Suppose next, that the 
same name, foot, begins to be applied to the child's 
other foot. The sound is now associated not con- 
stantly with one thing, but sometimes with one thing, 
and sometimes with another. The consequence is, 
that it calls up sometimes the one, and sometimes the 
other. Here two things, the two feet, are both of 
them associated with one thing, the name. The one 
thing, the name, has the power of calling up both, 
and in rapid succession. The word foot suggests the 
idea of one of the feet ; this foot with its name, is a 
complex idea ; and this complex idea suggests its like, 
the other foot v\rith its name. 

This is a peculiar and a highly important case of 
association ; but not the less simple and indisputable. 
We have already sufficiently exemplified the two grand 
cases of the formation of complex ideas by association ; 
— ^that in which the ideas of synchronous sensations 
are so concreted by constant conjunction as to appear, 
though numerous, only one ; of which the ideas of 
sensible objects, a rose, a plough, a house, a ship, are 
examples ; — and that in which the ideas of successive 
sensations are so concreted ; of which, the idea of a 



264 CLASSIFICATION. [CHAP. VUI. 

tune in music, the idea of the revolution of a wheel, 
of a walk, a hunt, a horse-race, are instances. 

It is easy to see wherein the present case agrees 
Mrith, and wherein it differs from, those familiar cases. 
The word, man, we shall say, is first applied to an 
individual ; it is first associated with the idea of that 
individual, and acquires the power of calling up the 
idea of him ; it is next applied to another individual, and 
acquires the power of calling up the idea of him ; so of 
another, and another, till it has become associated with 
an indefinite number, and has acquired the power of 
calling up an indefinite number of those ideas indiffe- 
rently. What happens ? It does call up an indefinite 
number of the ideas of individuals, as often as it occurs ; 
and calling them up in close connexion, it forms them 
into a species of complex idea. 

There can be no difficulty in admitting that associar 
tion does form the ideas of an indefinite number of 
individuals into one complex idea ; because it is an 
acknowledged fact. Have we not the idea of an army? 
And is not that precisely the ideas of an indefinite 
number of men formed into one idea ? Have we not 
the idea of a wood, or a forest ; and is not that the 
idea of an indefinite number of trees formed into one 
idea ? These are instances of the concretion of syn- 
chronous ideas. Of the concretion of successive ideas 
indefinite in number, the idea of a concert is one 
instance, the idea of a discourse is another, the idea of 
the life of a man is another* the idea of a year, or of a 
century, is another, and so on. The idea, which is 
marked by the term '^ race of man," is complex in 
both ways, for it is not only the idea of the present 
generation, but of all successive generations. 



CBAT. VIII.] CLASSIFICATION. 265 

It is also a fact, that when an idea becomes to a 
certain degree complex, from the multiplicity of the 
ideas it comprehends, it is of necessity indistinct. 
Thus the idea of a figure of one thousand sides is in- 
curably indistinct ; the idea of an army is also indis- 
tinct ; the idea of a forest, or the idea of a mob. And 
one of the uses of language, is, to enable us, by 
distinct marks, to speak with distinctness of those 
combinations of ideas, which, in themselves, are too 
numerous for distinctness. Thus, by our marks of 
numbers, we can speak, with the most perfect preci- 
sion, of a figure not only of a thousand, but of ten 
thousand sides, and deduce its peculiar properties ; 
though it is as impossible, by the idea, as by the 
sensations, to distinguish one of a thousand, from one 
of a thousand and one, sides. 

Thus, when the word man calls up the ideas of an 
indefinite number of individuals, not only of all those 
to whom I have individually given the name, but of 
all those to whom I have in imagination given it or 
imagine it will ever be given, and forms all those ideas 
into one, — ^it is evidently a very complex idea, and, 
therefore, indistinct; and this indistinctness has, 
doubtless, been the main cause of the mystery, which 
has appeared to belong to it. That this, however, is 
the process, is an inevitable result of the laws of 
association. 

It thus appears, that the word, man, is not a word 
having a very simple idea, as was the opinion of the 
Bealists ; nor a word having no idea at all, as was 
that of the Nominalists ; but a word calling up an 
indefinite number of ideas, by the irresistible laws 
of association, and forming them into one very 



266 CLASSIFICATION. [CHAP. VIH. 

complex, and indistinct, but not therefore unintelligible, 
idea. 

It is thus to be seen, tliat appellatives, or general 
names, are significant, in two modes. We have fre- 
quently had occasion to recur to the mode in which 
the simple ideas of sensation are associated or con- 
creted, SQ as to form what we call the complex ideas 
of objects. Thus, I have the complex ideas of this 
pen, this desk, this room, this man, this handwriting. 
The simple ideas, so concreted into a complex idea in 
the case of each individual, are one thing signified by 
each appellative ; and this complex idea of the in- 
dividual, concreted with another, and another of the 
same kind, and so on without end, is the other of the 
things which are signified by it. Thus, the word 
rose, signifies, first of all, a certain odour, a certain 
colour, a certain shape, a certain consistence, so asso- 
ciated as to form one idea, that of the individual ; 
next, it signifies this individual associated with 
another, and another, and another, and so on ; in 
other words, it signifies the class. 

The complexity of the idea, in the latter of the 
two cases, is distinguished by a peculiarity from that 
of the former. In applying the name to the odour, 
and colour, and so on, of the rose, concreted into one 
idea, the name is not the name of each of the sensa- 
tions taken singly, only of all taken together. In 
applying the name to rose, and rose, and rose, without 
end, the name is at once a name of each of the in- 
dividuals, and also the name of the complex associa- 
tion which is formed of them. This too, is itself a 
peculiar association. It is not the association of a 
name with a number of particulars clustered together 



k 



CHAP. Vin.] CLASSIFICATION. 267 

as one ; but the association of a name with each of 
an indefinite number of particulars, and all those par- 
ticulars associated back again with the name. 

This peculiarity may require a little further expla- 
nation. It is well known, that between an idea, and 
the name which stands for it, there is a double asso- 
ciation. The name calls up the idea in close associa- 
tion, and the idea calls up the name in equally close 
association ; and this they have a tendency to do in a 
series of repetitions ; the name bringing up the idea, 
the idea the name, and then the name the idea again, 
and so on, for any number of times. This is, in great 
part, the way in which language is learned, as we 
observe by the repetitions to which children are 
prone. And this, indeed, is what, in many cases, we 
mean when we speak of dwelling upon an idea. It is 
a familiar observation, that no idea dwells in the 
mind, or can ; for it has innumerable associations, and 
whatever association occurs, of course, displaces that 
by which it is introduced. But if the idea which 
thus displaces it, again calls it up, and these two go 
on calling up one another, that which is the more in- 
teresting of the two appears to be that which alone is 
occupying the attention. This alternation is frequent 
between the name and the idea. 

Now, then, let the word, man, be supposed, first of 
all, the name of an individual ; it becomes associated 
with the idea of the individual, and acquires the power 
of calling up that idea. Let us next suppose it ap- 
plied to one other individual, and no more : it becomes 
associated with this other idea ; and it now has the 
power of calling up either. The following is, then, a 
very natural train : — 1, The name occurs ; 2, the name 



268 CLASSIFICATION. [CHAF. VUL 

suggests the idea of one of the individuals ; 3, that 
idea suggests the name back again ; 4, the name sug- 
gests the idea of the second individual. All this may 
pass^ and, afber sufficient repetition, does pass, with 
the rapidity of lightning. Suppose, now, that the 
name is associated, with the ideas not of two indivi- 
duals, but of many ; the same train may go on ; the 
name exciting the idea of one individual, that idea 
the name, the name another individual, and so on, to 
an indefinite extent ; all in that smaU portion of time 
of which the mind takes no account. The combina* 
tion thus formed stands in need of a name. And the 
name, man, while it is the name of every individual 
included in the process, is also the name of the whole 
combination ; that is, of a very complex idea. 

One other question, respecting classification, may 
still seem to require solution ; namely, what it is by 
which we are determined in placing such and sach 
things together in a class in preference to others ; 
what, in other words, is the principle of Classification ? 
I answer, that, as it is for the purpose of naming, of 
naming with greater facility, that we form classes at 
all ; so it is in furtherance of that same facility that 
such and such things only are included in one class, 
such and such in another. Experience teaches what 
sort of grouping answers the purposes of naming 
best ; under the suggestions of that experience, the 
application of a general word is tacitly and without 
much of reflection regulated ; and by this process, and 
no other, it is, that Classification is performed. It is 
the aggregation of an indefinite number of individuals, 
by their association with a particular name. 

It may seem that this answer is still very general^ 



CHAP. Tin.] CLASSIFICATION. 269 

and that to make the explanation sufficient, the sug- 
gestions by which experience recommends this or that 
classification should be particularized. For the pur- 
pose of the present chapter, however, namely, to shew 
that the business of Classification is merely a process 
of naming, and is all resolvable into association, the 
observation, though general, is full and satisfactory. 
The detail of the purposes to be answered by general 
terms belongs more properly to the next head of Dis- 
course, and as far as the development of the mental 
phenomena seems to require it, will there be 
presented. 

It may still be useful to advert to the three princi- 
pal cases into which Classification may be resolved ; 
1, that of objects considered as synchronical ; 2, that 
of objects considered as successive ; 8, that of feelings. 
The first is exemplified in the common classes of 
sensible objects, as men, horses, trees, and so on ; and 
requires no further explanation. The second is ex- 
emplified in the classes of events, denoted by such 
words, as Birth, Death, Snowing, Thundering, Freez- 
ing, Flying, Creeping. By these words there is 
always denoted one antecedent and one consequent, 
generally more, sometimes a long train of them. And 
it is obvious that each of them is, at once, the name 
of each instance individually, and of all taken generally 
together. Thus, Freezing, is not the name of an 
individual instance of freezing only, but of that and 
of all other instances of Freezing. The same is the 
case with other words of a still more general, and 
thence more obscure signification, as Gravitation, 
Attraction, Motion, Force, &c. ; which words have 
this additional source of confusion, that they are am- 




270 CLASSIFICATION. [cHAP. VIIL 

biguous, being both abstract and concrete. When we 
say that there is a third case of classification, relating 
to Feelings, it does not mean that the two former do 
not relate to feelings : for when we say, that we classify 
objects, as men, horses, &c. ; — or events, as the 
sequences named births, deaths, and so on; — ^it is 
obvious that our operation is about our own feelings, 
and nothing else ; as the objects, and their successions, 
are, to us, the feelings merely which we thus designate. 
But as there are feelings which we do thus desig- 
nate ; and feelings which we do not ; it is convenient, 
for the purpose of teaching, to treat of them apart. 
The Feelings, of this latter kind, which we classify, 
are either single feelings, or trains. Thus, Pain is the 
name of a single feeling, and the name both of an 
individual instance, and of indefinite instances, form- 
ing a most extensive class. Memory is the name not 
of a single feeling or idea, but of a train ; and it is the 
name not only of a single instance, but of all instances 
of such a train, that is, of a class. The same is the 
case with Belief It is the name of a train consisting 
of a certain number of links ; and it is the name not 
only of an individual instance of such trains, but of all 
instances, forming an extensive class. Imagination 
is another instance of the same sort of classification. 
So also is Judgment, and Eeasoning, and Doubting, 
and we might name many more. 

It is easy to see, among the principles of Associa- 
tion, what particular principle it is, which is mainly 
concerned in Classification, and by which we are ren- 
dered capable of that mighty operation ; on which, as 
its basis, the whole of our intellectual structure is 
reared. That principle is Eesemblance. It seems to 



CHAP. VUI.] CLASSIFICATION. 271 

be similarity or resemblance which, when we have 
applied a name to one individual, leads us to apply it 
to another, and another, till the whole forms an 
aggregate, connected together by the common rela- 
tion of every part of the aggregate to one and the 
same name. Similarity, or Eesemblance, we must 
regard as an Idea familiar and sufficiently understood 
for the illustration at present required. It will itself 
be strictly analysed, at a subsequent part of this In- 
quiry. 

So deeply was the sagacious mind of Plato, far 
more philosophical than that of any who succeeded 
him, during many ages, struck with the importance 
of Classification, that he seems to have regarded it as 
the sum of all philosophy ; which he described, as 
being the faculty of seeing " the one in the many, 
and the many in the one;" a phrase which, when 
stripped from the subtleties of the sophists whom he 
exposed, and from the mystical visions of his suc- 
cessors, of which he never dreamed, is really a striking 
expression of what in classification is the matter of 
fact. His error lay, in misconceiving the one ; which 
he took, not for the aggregate, but something per- 
Tading the aggregate.'' " 

^ The two chapters (VII. and VIII.) of Mr. James Mill's 
Analysis are highly instructive, and exhibit all his customary 
force and perspicuity. But in respect to Classification and 
Abstraction, I think that the ancient philosophers of the 
Sokratic school generally, are entitled to more credit than he 
allows them ; and moreover that in respect to the difierence of 
opinion between Plato and Aristotle, he has assigned an undue 
superiority to the former at the expense of the latter. 

The reader would take very inadequate measure of these 



272 CLASSIPICATION. [cHAP. Vllt 

ancient philosophers, if he judged them from the two citations 
out of Harris and Cudworth, produced hy Mr. James Mill a8 
setting forth the most successful speculations of the ancient 
world. Both these passages are brought to illustrate "the 
mystical jargon" (p. 253) with which the ancients are said to 
have obscured a clear and simple subject. The mysticism in 
both citations is to a certain extent real ; but it depends also 
in part on the use of a terminology now obsolete, rather than 
on confusion of ideas. In regard to the citation from Harris, 
it is a passage in which that author passes into theology, and 
includes God and Immortality : topics upon which mystioal 
language can seldom be avoided : moreover, if we compare the 
remarks on Harris (p. 251) with p. 27 1, we shall find Mr. James 
Mill ridiculing as mystical, when used by Harris, the same 
language (about ** the One in the Many") which, when employed 
by Plato, he eulogises as follows — " a phrase which, when 
stripped from the subtleties of the sophists whom he (Plato) 
exposed, and from the mystical visions of his successors, of 
which he never dreamed, is really a striking expression of 
" what in classification is the matter of fact." 

I wish I could concur with Mr. James Mill in exonerating 
Plato from these mystical visions, and imputing them exclu- 
sively to his successors. But I find them too manifestly pro- 
claimed in the Timeeus, Phsedon, Phaedrus, Symposion, 
Republic, and other dialogues, to admit of such an acquittal : 
I also find subtleties quite as perplexing as those of any sophist 
whom he exposed. Along with these elements, the dialogues 
undoubtedly present others entirely disparate, much sounder 
and nobler. I have in another work endeavoured to render a 
faithful account of the multifarious Platonic aggregate, stamped 
in all its parts, — whether of negative dialectic, poetical fancy, 
or ethical dogmatism,^— with the unrivalled genius of expres- 
sion belonging to the author. The misfortune is that his Neo- 
Platonic successors selected by preference his dreams and 
visions for their amplifying comment and eulogy, leaving 
comparatively unnoticed the instructive lessons of philosophy 










CHAP. VIII.] CLASSIFICATION. 273 

accompanying them. To this extent the Neo-PIatonists fully 
deserve the criticism here bestowed on them. 

The long passage, extracted in the Analysis from Cudworth, 
contains two grave mis-statements, respecting both Plato and 
Aristotle ; which deserve the more attention because they seem 
to have misled Mr. James Mill himself. Respecting Universals, 
Gud.worth, after saying that they do not exist in the individual 
sensibles, proceeds as follows (p. 255-256) — 

1. "Neither, in the next place, do they exist somewhere 
''else apart from the individual sensibles, and without the 
" mind : which is that opinion that Aristotle justly condemns, 
"but either unjustly or unskilfully attributes to Plato. 

2. " Wherefore these intelligible ideas or essences of things, 
"those forms by which we understand all things, exist no- 
" where but in the mind itself : for it was very well determined 
"long ago by Socrates, in Plato's Parmenides, that these 

things are nothing but noemata : these species or ideas are 
all of them nothing but noemata^ or notions that exist no- 
" where but in the soul itself." 

Now, neither of these assertions of Cud worth will be found 
accarate : neither the " determination" which he ascribes to 
the Platonic Sokrates — nor the censure of" unjust or unskilful" 
which he attaches to Aristotle. It is indeed true that the 
opinion here mentioned is enunciated by Sokrates in Plato's 
Parmenides. But far from being given as a " determination," 
it is enunciated only to be refuted and dropt.^ In that dia- 
logue^ Sokrates is introduced as a youthful and ardent aspirant 
in philosophy, maintaining the genuine Platonic theory of 
self-existeut and separate Ideas. He finds himself unable to 
repel several acute objections tendered against the theory by 
the veteran Parmenides : he is driven from position to position : 
and one among them, not more tenable than the rest, is the 
suggestion cited by Cudworth. Yet Parmenides, though his 
objections remain unanswered and though be alludes to others 

• Plato Parmenid. p. 132, C, D. 
VOL. I. T 



274 CLASSIFICATION. [CSAP. VUI. 

not speoifiedy— conclades by declaring* that nevertheless the 
Platonic theory of Ideas cannot be abandoned : it mast be 
npheld as a postulate essential to the possibility of general 
reasoning and philosophy. 

Even in the Parmenides itself, therefore, where Plato aocn- 
mulates objections against the theory of separate and self* 
existent Ideas, we still find him reiterating his adherence to 
it And when we turn to his other dialogues, PhiBdms, 
Phffidon, Symposion, Republic, Eratylus, &c., we see that theory 
so emphatically proclaimed and so largely illustrated, that I 
wonder how Cudworth can blame Aristotle for imputing it to 
him. 

It is by Cudworth, probably, that Mr. James Mill has been 
misled, when he says — p. 249 — "At bottom, Aristotle's JSoc 
** is the same as with Plato's iSia, though Aristotle makes a 
** great affair of some very trifling differences, which he creates 
" and sets up between them." — I have pointed out Gudworth'e 
mistake, and I maintain that the difference between Plato and 
Aristotle on this subject was grave and material. The latter 
denied, what the former affirmed, self-existence and substan- 
tiality of the Universal Ideas, apart from and independent of 
particulars. 

Having cited with some comments the extracts from Cud- 
worth and Harris, Mr. James Mill observes, '^ Under the 
" influence of such notions as these, men were led away from 
the real object of Classification, which remained, till a late 
period of metaphysical enquiry, not at all understood. Yet 
** the truth appears by no means difficult to find, if we only 
" observe the steps by which the mind acquires its knowledge, 
" and the exigencies which give occasion to the contrivances 
"to which it resorts" (p. 259). — He then proceeds, clearly 
and forcibly, to announce his own theory of classification, in- 
tended to dispel the mystery with which others have surrounded 

• Plato Parmenid. p. 136, B, C. 

I have given an account of this acute but perplexing dialogue, 
in the twenty-fifth chapter of my work on Plato and the other 
Companions of Sokrates. 



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u 



CBAP. vni.] CLA88IFICATIOK. 275 

it (p. 264). ''The word man is first applied to an in- 
dividual : it is first associated with the idea of that individual, 
and acquires the power of calling up the idea of him : it is 
next applied to another individual, and acquires the power 
" of calling up the idea of him : so of another and another, 
" till it has acquired the power of calling up an indefinite 
" number of those ideas indifferently. What happens ? It 
** does call up an indefinite number of the ideas of individuals, 
" as often as it occurs : and calling them up in close combi- 
''nation, it forms them into a species of complex idea." 
^ It thus appears that the word man is not a word having 
''a very simple idea, as was the opinion of the Bealists: 
nor a word having no idea at all, as was that of the Nomi- 
nalists: but a word calling up an indefinite number of ideas, 
by the irresistible laws of association, and forming them into 
one very complex and indistinct, but not therefore unintelli- 
gible, idea" (p. 265). — *' As it is for the purpose of naming, 
and of naming with greater facility, that we form classes at 
all ; so it is in furtherance of that same facility that such 
^' and such things only are included in one class, such and 
" such things in another. Experience teaches us what sort of 
grouping answers this purpose best : under the suggestions 
of that experience, the application of a general word is 
tacitly and without much of reflection regulated : and by 
''this process and no other, it is, that Classification is per- 
" formed. It is the aggregation of an indefinite number of 
"individuals, by their association with a particular name" 
(p. 268). — " It is Similarity or Besemblance, which, when we 
" have applied a name to one individual, leads us to apply it 
" to another and another — till the whole forms an aggregate, 
" connected together by the common relation of the aggregate 
"to one and the same name " (p. 271). 

Such is the theory of Mr. James Mill. Its great peculiarity 
is that it neither includes nor alludes to Abstraction. It 
admits in Classification nothing more than the one common 
name associated with an aggregate indefinite and indistinct, of 
similar concrete individuals. I shall now consider the manner 

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276 CLASSIFICATION. [CHAP. vm. 

in which the Greek philosophers of the fourth centary B.C. 
dealt with the same subject, and how far they merit the censure 
of having imported unnecessary mystery into it. 

It is impossible to understand Plato unless we take our 
departure from his master Sokrates. Now it is precisely in 
regard to Classification, and the meaning and comprehension 
of general terms, that the originality and dialectical acuteness 
of Sokrates were most conspicuously manifested. He was 
the first philosopher (as Aristotle^ tells us) who set before 
himself the Universal as an express object of investigation, — 
and who applied himself to find out and test the definition of 
universal terms. He wrote nothing ; but he passed most part 
of his long life in public, and in talking indiscriminately with 
every one. Oral colloquy, and cross-examining interrogation, 
were carried by him to a pitch of excellence never equalled. 
Not only did he disclaim all power of teaching, but he ex- 
plicitly avowed his own ignorance ; professing to be a mere 
seeker of truth firom others who knew better, and to be anxious 
only for answers such as would stand an accurate scrutiny. 
To this peculiar scheme the topics on which he talked were 
adapted : for he avoided all recondite themes, and discussed 
only matters relating to man and society : such as What is the 
Holy ? What is the Unholy ? What are the Beautiful and 
the Mean — the Just and Unjust ? Temperance ? Madness ? 
Courage ? Cowardice ? A City ? A man fit for citizenship ? 
Command of Men ? A man fit for commanding men ? Such 
is the specimen-list given by Xenophon^ of the themes chosen 
by Sokrates. We see that they are all general, and embodied 
in universal terms. But the terms as well as the themes were 
familiar to all : every man believed himself thoroughly to un- 
derstand the meaning of the former— -every one had convic- 
tions ready- made and decided on the latter. When Sokrates 
first opened the colloquy, respondents were surprised to be 
questioned about such subjects, upon which they presumed 



* Aristot. Metaphys. A. p. 987, b. 1, M. p. 1078, b. 30. 
^ Xenophon, Memorab. I., 1 — 16. 



CHAP, vm.] CLASSIFICATION. 277 

that every one must know as well as themselves. But this 
coDfidence speedily vanished when they came to be tested by 
indoctive* interrogatories : citation of appropriate particulars, 
included or not included in the generalities which they laid 
down. The result proved that they could not answer the 
questions without speedily contradicting themselves : that they 
did not understand the comprehension of their own universal 
terms : and that upon all these matters, on which they talked 
so confidently, they had never applied themselves deliberately 
to learn, nor could they say how their judgments had been 
acquired or certified.* 

The conviction formed in the mind of Sokrates, after long 
persistence in such colloquial cross-examination, is consigned 
ID his defence before the Athenian judicature, pronounced a 
month before his death. He declared that what he found 
every where was real ignorance, combined with false persua- 
sion of knowledge : that this was the chronic malady of the 
human mind, which it had been his mission to expose : that 
no man was willing to learn, because no man believed that he 
stood in need of learning : that, accordingly, the first step in- 
dispensable to all efiective teaching, was to make the pupil a 
willing learner, by disabusing his mind of the false persuasion 
of knowledge, and by imparting to him the stimulus arising 
from a painful consciousness of ignorance. 

Such was the remarkable psychological scrutiny instituted 
by Sokrates on his countrymen, and the verdict which it sug- 
gested to him. I have already observed that his great intel- 
lectual bent was to ascertain the definition of general terms, 
and to follow these out to a comprehensive and consistent 
classification.® It must be added that no man was ever less 
inclined to mysticism than Sokrates : and that he was thus 



* So Aristotle calls them — \6yovg iTraicriKoig. — Metaph. M. 
p. 1078, b. 28. 

^ Xenophon, Memorab. IV. 2—13—30—86. 

« Xenophon, Memor. IV. 6, 12 ; IV. b. 1—7—10—16. &v 

tviKa fTKOTTUtV (TlfV TOIQ (TVVOVmV, tI IkQ^OV till TWV 6vTWV, 



278 CLASSIFICATION. [CHAP. Vm. 

exempt from those misleading inflaenoes which (according to 
Mr. James Mill, p. 260) *^ have led men away from the real 
'' ohject of Classification, and prevented them from understand- 
*' ing it till a late period in metaphysical enquiry." Sokrates 
did not come before his countrymen with classifications of his 
own, originated or improved — ^nor did he teach them how the 
process ought to be conducted. His purpose was, to test and 
appreciate that Classification which he found ready-made and 
current among them. He pronounced it to be worthless and 
illusory. 

Now I wish to point out that what Sokrates thus depreciated, 
is exactly that which this Chapter of the Analysis lays before 
us as Classification generally. I agree with the Analysis that 
Classification, up to a certain point, grows out of the principle 
of Association and the exigencies of the human mind, by steps 
instructively set forth in that work. But such natural growth 
reaches no higher standard than that which Sokrates tested and 
found so lamentably deficient, even among a public of unusual 
intelligence. It does not deserve the name of a *' mighty 
operation" (bestowed upon it by Mr. James Mill, p. 270). It 
is a rudimentary procedure, indispensable as a basis on which 
to build, and sufficing in the main for social communication, 
when no science or reasoned truth is required: but failing 
altogether to realise what has been understood by philosophers, 
from Sokrates downward, as the true and fiill purpose of Classi- 
fication. So long as the Class is conceived to be only what the 
Analysis describes, an indistinct aggregate of resembling in- 
dividuals denoted by the same name, without clearly under- 
standing wherein the resemblance consists, or what facts and 
attributes are connoted by the name* — (I use the word e<mnote^ 



* The necessity of determining the connotation of the Class- 
term is distinctly put forward by Sokrates — Xenophon, Memorab. 
III. 14, 2. \6ji^ Syroc irc/ol hvofiarwVy 1^* 6(c^ ^py^ ttavsov 
Bill — *'E\oifuv av (i^ri) inrnv, hrl voit^ wori tpyi^ avOpwwoc 
6\p6<liayoc KoXurai; &c, also the remarkable passage lY., 
6. 13 — 15, Plato, Sophistes, p. 218 B. rovvofia n6vov iYOfUV 
KOivy' rb Si tpyoVf e^' (^ KoXoO/uy, &c. 



GAAP. YIII.] CLASSIFICATION. 279 

not in the sense of the Analysis, but in the sense of Mr. John 
Stuart Mill) — so long will Classification continue to be, as 
Sokrates entitled it, a large persuasion of knowledge with little 
reality to sustain it. 

I pass now from Sokrates to Plato. It is true, as we read 
in the Analysis, (p. 271) that Plato *' was so deeply struck 
** frith the importance of Classification, that he seems to have 
** regarded it as the sum of all philosophy." But what Plato 
thus admired was not the Classification that he found preva- 
lent around him, such as this chapter of the Analysis depicts. 
Here Plato perfectly agreed with Sokrates. Among his im- 
mortal dialogues, several of the very best are devoted to the 
illustration of the Sokratic point of view : to the cross-exami- 
nation and exposure of the minds around him, instructed as 
well as vulgar, in respect to the general terms familiarly used 
in speech. The Platonic questions and answers are framed 
to shew how little the respondents understand beneath those 
corrent generalities on which every one talks with confidem e 
and fluency — and how little they can avoid contradiction or in- 
consistency, when their class-terms are confronted with parti- 
oalars. In fact, Plato goes so far as to intimate that these 
micertifled classifications, — generated in each man's mind by 
merely learning the application of words, and imbibed uncon- 
soionsly, without special teaching, through the contagion of 
ordinary society — are rather worse than ignorance : inasmuci. 
as they are accompanied by a false persuasion of knowledge. 
It would be (in the opinion of Plato) a comparative improve- 
ment, if this state of mental confusion, creating a false persua- 
sion of knowledge, were broken up ; and if there were substi- 
tuted in place thereof positive ignorance, together with the 
naked and painful consciousness of being really ignorant. 
Only in this way could the mind of the learner be stimulated 
to aotive effort in the acquisition of genuine knowledge.* 

Accordingly, when it is said that Plato was *' deeply struck 



* Plato, SophistcB, p. 230—231. Symposion, p. 204 A, Menon^ 
p. 84, A. D. 



280 CLASSIFICATION. [CHAP. VUI. 

*' with the importance of Classification/' we must understand 
the phrase as applying to Classification, not as he found it 
prevalent, but as he idealized it. And the scheme that he 
imagined was not merely different from that which he found, 
but in direct repugnance to it. He renounced altogether the 
aggregate of individuals ; he declared the class-constituent to 
reside in a reality apart from them, separate and self-existent 
— the Idea or Form. He enjoined the student of philosophy 
to fix his contemplation on these Class*Ideas, the real Reali- 
ties, in their own luminous region : and for that purpose, to 
turn his back upon the phenomenal particulars, which were 
mere transitory, shadowy, incoherent projections of these 
Ideas* — and from the study of which no true knowledge could 
be obtained. Of the two statements in the Analysis — (p. 271) 
that '* Plato never dreamed of the mystical visions of his succes- 
" sors," — and that " his error (respecting Classification) lay in 
" misconceiving the One ; which he took, not for the aggregate, 
** but something pervading the aggregate" — neither one nor 
the other appears to me accurate. In regard to the second of 
the two, indeed, you may find various passages of Plato which, 
if construed separately, would countenance it : for Plato does 
not always talk Realism — nor always consistently with him- 
self. But still his capital and peculiar theory was. Realism. 
The Platonic One was not something pervading the aggregate 
of particulars, but an independent and immutable reality, 
apart from the aggregate : and Plato, when he thus conceived 

* This is what we read in the memorable simile of the Cave, 
in Plato, Republic, VII., p. 614 — 619. The language used 
throughout this simile is ntpiayeiVf Tripiaicriov, wepiaywyfi, Ac. 
He supposes that the natural state of man is to have his face 
and vision towards the particular phenomena, and his back to- 
wards the universal realities : the great problem is, how to make 
the man face about, turn his back towards phenomena, and his 
eyes towards XJniversals — ra ovra — ra vorira. Nothing can be 
learnt from observation however acute, of the phenomena. The 
same point is enforced with all the charm of Platonic expression 
in Republ. V. 478, 479, VI., 493, 494. Symposion, p. 210—211, 
PhaBdon, p. 74 — 76. 



\ 



CHAP, vra.] CLASSIFICATION. 281 

the One, illustrating it by the vast hypotheses embodied in the 
Bepablic, Phaedon, Phsedrus, Symposion, Menon, &c., is the 
true originator of those ** mystical visions" against which the 
Analysis justly protests. Such visions were doubtless sug- 
gested to Plato by '' his deep sense of the importance of 
Classification :" but they are his own, though continued and 
amplified, without his decorative genius, by Neo-Platonic 
successors. His theory of classification was the first ever 
propounded ; and that theory was Realism. The doctrine here 
ascribed to him by Mr. James Mill is much more Aristotelian 
than Platonic. The main issue raised by Aristotle against Plato 
waSy upon the essential separation, and separate objective exist- 
ence, of the Abstract and Universal : Plato affirmed it, Aristotle 
denied it^ Aristotle recognised no reality apart from the 
Particular, to which the Universal was attached as a predicate, 
either essential or accidental to its subject. The Aristotelian 
Universal may thus be called, in relation to a body of similar 
particulars, not the aggregate but something pervading the 
aggregate. But this is not Plato's view : it is the negation of 
the Platonic Realism. 

When we read in the Analysis (p. 265) that '*the word man 
''is not a word having a very simple idea, as was the opinion 
" of the Realists ; nor a word having no idea at all, as was that of 
the Nominalists" — this language seems to me not well-chosen. 



it 



• According to Plato, it is ro e v tt a /o a r a ir o X X a. According to 
Aristotle, it is tv Kara TroXXwv — tv koI to avro iirl ir\ei6vtov 
fiii 6/jLwwfiov tv iirX TroXXiv. Analyt. Poster. 1. 11, p. 77, a. 
e. Metaphys. I. 9, p. 990, b. 7—13. 

Whoever reads the portions of Plato's dialogues indicated in 
my last preceding foot note, will see how material this difference 
is, between the two philosophers. 

In the remarkable passage of the Analyt. Post. L 24, p. 85, 
a. 80, b. 20, Aristotle notices the Platonic hypothesis that the 
Universal has real objective, separate, existence apart from its 
particulars (to icadoXov l?( ti wapa to, Ka0* £Ka?a) as an illusion, 
mischievous and misleading — frequent, but not unavoidable. 

See the antithesis between Plato and Aristotle, on the subject 
of Universals, more copiously explained in the recent work of 
Professor Bain, Mental and Moral Science, Appendix, pp. 6—20. 



282 CLASSIFICATION. [CHAP. YUI. 

As to the Realists — ^tbe Platonic Ideas are conceived as eternal, 
immutable, grand, dignified, &c., but Aristotle* contends that 
they cannot all be simple : for the Idea of Man (e.g.) can 
hardly be simple, when there exist distinct Ideas of Animal and 
of Biped. As to the Nominalists — we cannot surely say that 
they conceived the universal term as '* having no idea at all.** 
A doctrine something like this is ascribed (on no certain 
testimony) to Stilpon, in the generation succeeding Aristotle : 
the word Man (Stilpon is said to have affirmed^) did not 
mean John more than William or Thomas or Richard, &c., 
therefore it did not mean either one of them ; therefore it had 
no meaning at all. So also William of Ockham is said to 
have declared that Universal Terms were mere '' flatus vocis :" 
but this (as Prantl has shewn®) was a phrase fastened upon 
him by his opponents, not employed by himself. Still less 
can it be admitted that Hobbes and Berkeley conceived the 
Universal Term as '* having no idea at all." They denied 
indeed Universal Ideas in the Realistic sense: they also 
denied what Berkeley calls " determinate abstract Ideas :" but 
both of them explained (Berkeley especially) that the Universal 
term meant, any particular idea, considered as representing or 
standing for all other particular ideas of the same sort^ 
Whether this be the best and most complete explanation or 
not, it can hardly have been present to Mr. James Mill's mind, 
when he said that the Universal term had no idea at all in the 
opinion of the Nominalists. 

There is one other remark to be made, respecting the view of 
Classification presented in the eighth Chapter of the Analysis. 
We read in the beginning of that Chapter — p. 249 — " Forming 
'^ a class of things is a mode of regarding them. But what is 
*' meant by a mode of regarding things ? This is mysterious : 



"" Aristot. Metaphys. Z. 1039, a. 27, 1040, a. 28. 

^ See Grote, Plato and the other Companions of Sokrates, 
Vol. III., ch. 88, p. 623. 

® Prantl, Geschichte der Logik, Vol. III., Sect. 19, p. 827. 

^ Berkeley, Principles of Human Knowledge, Introduction, 
Sect. 12, 15, 16. 



u 
ii 
it 
it 



CHAP, vm.] CLASSIFICATION. 288 

" and is as mysteriously explained, when it is said to be the taking 

" into view the particulars in which iudividuals agree. For what 

** is there which it is possible for the mind to take into view, in 

** that in which individuals agree ? Every colour is an indi- 

^* vidaal colour, every size is an individual size, every shape 

''is an individual shape. But things have no individual 

" colour in common, no individual shape in common, no indi- 

** vidual size in common : that 18 to say, they have neither shape, 

** colour, nor size in common. What then is it which they 

have in common which the mind can take into view ? Those 

who affirmed that it was something, could by no means tell. 

They substituted words for things : using vague and mystical 

phrases, which when examined meant nothing." 

Here we find certain phrases, often used both in common 

speech and in philosophy, condemned as mystical and obscure. 

In the next or ninth Chapter (on Abstraction, p. 295 seq.), we 

shall see the language substituted for them, and the theory by 

which the mystery is supposed to be removed. I cannot but 

think that the theory of Mr. James Mill himself is open to quite 

as many objections as that which he impugns. He finds fault 

with those who affirm that the word cube or sphere is applied 

to a great many different objects by reason of the shape which 

they have in common ; and that they may be regarded so far 

forth as cube or sphere. But surely this would not have been 

considered as either incorrect or mysterious by any philoso- 

pher, from Aristotle downward. When I am told that it is 

incorrect^ because the shape of each object is an individual 

shape, I dissent from the reason given. In my judgment, the 

term individual is a term applicable, properly and specially, 

to a concrete object — ^to that which Aristotle would have 

called a Hoc Aliquid. The term is not applicable to a quality 

or attribute. The same quality that belongs to one object, 

may also belong to an indefinite number of others. It is this 

common quality that is connoted (in the sense of that word 

employed by Mr. John Stuart Mill) by the class-term : and if 

there were no common quality, the class-term would have no 

connotation. In other words, there would be no class : nor 






284 CLASSIFICATION. [cHAP. VIIL 

would it be correct to apply to any two objects the same 000- 
Crete appellative name. 

But wbeu we come to the following Chapter of the Analysis 
(ch. ix. on Abstraction, p. 296), we read as follows — "Let 
'' us suppose that we apply the adjective black first to the word 
" Man. We say ' black man.' But we speedily see that for 
" the same reason for which we say black man, we may say 
" black horse, black cow, black coat, and so on. The word 
" black is thus associated with innuiherable modifications of 
'' the sensation black. By frequent repetition, and the gradual 
strengthening of the association, these modifications are at 

last called up in such rapid succession that they appear com- 
" mingled, and no longer many ideas, but one. BUick is there- 
" fore no longer an individual, but a general name. It marks 
" not the particular black of a particular individual, but the 
** black of every individual and of all individuals." 

To say that we apply the word black to the horse ^br the 
same reason as we applied it to the man, is surely equivalent 
to saying that the colour of the horse is the same as that of 
the man : that blackness is the colour which they have in 
common. It is quite true that we begin by applying the name 
to one individual object, then apply it to another, and another, 
&c. ; but always for the same reason — to designate (or connote, 
in the phraseology of Mr. John Stuart Mill) the same colour 
in them all, and to denote the objects considered under one 
and the same point of view. It may be that in fact there are 
differences in shade of colour : but the class-name leaves these 
out of sight. When we desire to call attention to them, we 
employ other words in addition to it. Every attribute is con- 
sidered and named as One, which is or may be common to 
many individual objects : the objects only are individual. 

It is to be regretted, I think, that Mr. James Mill discon- 
nected Classification so pointedly from Abstraction, and in- 
sisted on explaining the former without taking account of the 
latter. Such disconnection is a novelty, as he himself states 
(p. 294) : previous expositors thought that " abstraction was 
included in classification" — and^ in my judgment, they were 



CHAP. Vni.] CLASSIFICATION. 285 

right in thinking so, if (with Mr. James Mill) we are to con- 
sider Classification as a '' great operation." An aggregate of 
concretes is not sufficient to constitute a Glass, in any scientific 
sense, or as available in the march of reasoned truth. You 
must have, besides, the peculiar mode of regarding the aggre- 
gate : (a phrase which Mr. James Mill deprecates as mysterious, 
but which it is difficult to exchange for any other words more 
intelligible) you must have '' that separating one or more of 
" the ingredients of a complex idea from the rest, which has 
" received the name of Abstraction" — to repeat the very just ex- 
planation given by him, p. 295 — though that too, if we look 
at p. 249, he seems to consider as tainted with mystery. 

We proceed afterwards to some clear and good additional 
remarks — ^p. 298. A class-term, as black, *' is associated 
'' with two distinguishable things, but with the one much more 
'* than with the other : — the clusters, with which it is asso- 
'' ciated, are variable : the peculiar sensation with which it is 
''associated, is invariable. It is constantly, and therefore 
''much more strongly, associated with the sensation, than 
" ?rith any of the clusters. It is at once a name of the clusters 
" and a name of the sensation : but it is more peculiarly a 
" name of the sensation." Again shortly afterwards, — the ab- 
stract term is justly described as ** marking exclusively one part 
(of the cluster), upon which such and such effects depend, 
no alteration being supposed in any other part of it."* 
This process of marking exclusively, and attending to, one 
constant portion of a complex state of consciousness, amidst a 



* The abstract term is coined for the express purpose of 
marking one part of a cluster simultaneously present to the 
mind, and fixing attention upon it without the other parts — but 
the concrete term is often made to serve the same purpose, by 
means of the adverb quatenus, KaOotrov, y, &c. These phrases 
are frequent both in Plato and Aristotle : the stock of abstract 
terms was in their day comparatively small. It is needless to 
multiply illustrations of that which pervades the compositions of 
both : a very good one appears in Plato, Eepubl. I., p. 340 D, 
841 G, 342. 



it 



286 CLASSIFICATION. [cHAP. Yin. 

great variety of variable adjuncts — ^is doabtless one funda-* 
meDtal characteristic in Abstraction and Classification. K- 
mystery was spread around it by Plato — first through hi» 
ascribing to the Constant a separate self-existence, apart fronk. 
the Variables— -still more by his hyperbolical predicates 
specting these self-existent transcendental £ntia« Plato* bowevef 
in other passages gives many just opinions, respecting Classi- 
fication, which are no way founded on Realism, and are equally 
admissible by Nominalists : and portions of Aristotle may be 
indicated, which describe the process of abstraction as clearly 
as any thing in Hobbes or Berkeley.^ 

One farther remark may be made upon these two Ohapters 
of the Analysis. Mr. James Mill seems to take little or no 
thought of Classification and Abstraction, except as performed 
by Adjectives. But the adjective presupposes a substantive, 
which is alike an appellative ; and which has already performed 
its duty in the way of abstracting and classifying. This &ct 
seems to be overlooked in the language of some sentences 
in the present Chapter: for example — " Some successions 
" are found to depend upon the clusters called oljecti, all 
*' taken together. Thus a tree, a man, a stone, are the ante- 

* The two Platonic dialogues, Sophistes and Politikus, (in 
which processes of Classification are worked out,) give precepts, 
for correct and pertinent classification, not necessarily involving 
the theory of Eealism, but rather putting it out of sight ; though 
in one special part of the Sophistes, the debate is made to turn 
upon it The main purpose of Plato is to fix upon some fact or 
phenomenon, clear and appropriate, as the groundwork for dis- 
tinguishing each class or sub-class — and to define thereby each 
class-term (1.0., to determine its eonnotation^ in the sense of Mr. 
John Stuart Mill). Plato deprecates the mere following out of 
resemblances as a most slippery proceeding (6\ia0iif>6raTov y^voc 
— Sophist 281 A). The commonly received classes cany with 
them in his opinion, no real knowledge, but only the false per* 
suasion of knowledge : he wants to break them up and remodel 
them. 

^ See especially Aristot De Memorift et BeminisoentiAi c 1, 
p. 449, b. 13. De Sensu et Sensili, c. 6, p. 445, b. 17. De 
Animft IlL 8, p. 432, a. 9. 



■\ 






CHAP, ym.] CLASSIFICATION. 287 

'* cedents of certain consequents, as such : and not on account 
'' of any particular part of the cluster. Other consequents 
** depend not upon the whole cluster, but upon some particular 

part : thus a tall tree produces certain effects which a tree 

not tall cannot produce/' &c. 

I think that the phraseology of this passage is not quite 
clear. " The whole cluster all taken together" is not a tree as 
soch — a man as such — a stone as such — but this particular 
man, tree, or stone, as it stands : John, Thomas, Gains or 
Titius, clothed with all his predicates, acting or suffering in 
some given manner. When we speak of a man as such or 
quatenus man — we do not include the whole cluster, but only 
those attributes connoted (in Mr. John Stuart Mill's sense of 
the word) by the name man : we speak of him as a member 
of the class Man. What I wish to point out is — That Man is a 
class-term, just as much as taU or short : only it is the name 
of a larger class, while tall man is a smaller class under it 
The school-logicians did not consider substantives as connota- 
tive, but only adjectives : Mr. James Mill has followed them 
as to this extent of the word, though he has inverted their 
meaning of it (see p. 299). Mr. John Stuart Mill, while de- 
clining to adopt the same inversion, has enlarged the meaning 
of the word connotative, so as to include appellative substan- 
tives as well as adjectives. — O. 

^ Rejecting the notion that classes and classification would 
not have existed but for the necessity of economizing names, 
we may say that objects are formed into classes on account of 
their resemblance. It is natural to think of like objects 
together ; which is, indeed, one of the two fundamental laws 
of association. But the resembling objects which are spon- 
taneously thought of together, are those which resemble each 
other obviously, in their superficial aspect. These are the only 
classes which we should form unpremeditatedly, and without 
the use of expedients. But there are other resemblances 
which are not superficially obvious; and many are not brought 
to light except by long experience, or observation carefully 
directed to the purpose ; being mostly resemblances in the 



288 CLASSIFICATION. [CHAP. VHI. 

manner in which the objects act on, or are acted on by, other 
things. These more recondite resemblances are often those 
which are of greatest importance to our interests. It is im- 
portant to us that we should think of those things together, 
which agree in any particular that materially concerns us. 
For this purpose, besides the classes which form themselves 
in our minds spontaneously by the general law of association, 
we form other classes artificially, that is, we take pains to 
associate mentally together things which we wish to think of 
together, but which are not sufiBciently associated by the 
spontaneous action of association by resemblance. The grand 
instrument we employ in forming these artificial associations, 
is general names. We give a common name to all the objects, 
we associate each of the objects with the name, and by their 
common association with the name they are knit together in 
close association with one another. 

But in what manner does the name effect this purpose, of 
uniting into one complex class-idea all the objects which agree 
with one another in certain definite particulars ? We effect 
this by associating the name in a peculiarly strong and close 
manner with those particulars. It is, of course, associated 
with the objects also ; and the name seldom or never calls up 
the ideas of the class-characteristics unaccompanied by any 
other qualities of the objects. All our ideas are of individuals, 
or of numbers of individuals, and are clothed with more or 
fewer of the attributes which are peculiar to the individuals 
thought of. Still, a class-name stands in a very different re- 
lation to the definite resemblances which it is intended to 
mark, from that in which it stands to the various accessory 
circumstances which may form part of the image it calls up. 
There are certain attributes common to the entire class, which 
the class-name was either deliberately selected as a mark of, 
or, at all events, which guide us in the application of it. 
These attributes are the real meaning of the class-name — are 
what we intend to ascribe to an object when we call it by that 
name. With these the association of the name is close and 
strong : and the employment of the same name by different 




CHAP. Vin.] CLASSIFICATION. 289 

persons, provided they employ it with a precise adhereDce to 
the ineaDiDg, ensures that they shall all include these attri- 
butes in the complex idea which they associate with the name. 
This is not the case with any of the other qualities of the 
individual objects, even if they happen to be common to all 
the objects, still less if they belong only to some of them. 
The class-name calls up, in every mind that hears or uses it, 
the idea of one or more individual objects, clothed more or 
less copiously with other qualities than those marked by the 
name; but these other qualities may, consistently with the 
purposes for which the class is formed and the name given, 
be different with different persons, and with the same person 
at different times. What images of individual horses the word 
horse shall call up, depends on such accidents as the person's 
taste in horses, the particular horses he may happen to possess, 
the descriptions he last read, or the casual peculiarities of the 
horses he recently saw. In general, therefore, no very strong 
or permauent association, and especially no association com- 
mon to all who use the language, will be formed between 
the word horse and any of the qualities of horses but those 
expressly or tacitly recognised as the foundations of the 
class. The complex ideas thus formed consisting of an 
inner nucleus of definite elements always the same, im- 
bedded in a generally much greater number of elements 
indefinitely variable, are our ideas of classes ; the ideas con- 
nected with general names; what are called General Notions : 
which are neither real objective entities, as the Bealists 
held, nor mere names, as supposed to be maintained by the 
Nominalists, nor abstract ideas excluding all properties not 
common to the class, such as Locke's famous Idea of a 
triangle that is neither equilateral nor isosceles nor scalene. 
We cannot represent to ourselves a triangle with no pro- 
perties but those common to all triangles: but we may re- 
present it to ourselves sometimes in one of those three forms, 
sometimes in another, being aware all the while that all of 
them are equally consistent with its being a triangle. 

One important consequence of these considerations is, that 

VOL. I. U 



290 CLASSIFICATION. [cHAP. vni* 

the meaning of a class-name is not the same thing with the 
complex idea associated with it. The complex idea associated 
with the name man, includes, in the mind of every one, innn- 
inerahle simple ideas besides those which the name is intended 
to mark, and in the absence of which it would not be predi- 
cated. But this multitude of simple ideas which help to swell 
the complex idea are infinitely variable, and never exactly 
the same in any two persons, depending in each upon the 
amount of his knowledge, and the nature, variety, and recent 
date of his experience. They are therefore no part of the 
meaning of the name. They are not the association common 
to all, which it was intended to form, and which enables the 
name to be used by all in the same manner, to be understood 
in a common sense by all, and to serve, therefore, as a vehicle 
for the communication, between one and another, of the same 
thoughts. What does this, is the nucleus of more closely 
associated ideas, which is the constant element in the 
complex idea of the class, both in the same mind at different 
times, and in different minds. 

It is proper to add, that the class- name is not solely a mark 
of the distinguishing class-attributes, it is a mark also of the 
objects. The name man does not merely signify the qualities 
of animal life, rationality, and the human form, it signifies all 
individual men. It even signifies these in a more direct way 
than it signifies the attributes, for it is predicated of the men, 
but not predicated of the attributes ; just as the proper name 
of an individual man is predicated of him. We say. This is a 
man, just as we say. This is John Thompson : and if John 
Thompson is the name of one man, Man is, in the same man- 
ner, a name of all men. A class name, being thus a name of 
the various objects composing the class, signifies two distinct 
things, in two different modes of signification. It signifies the 
individual objects which are the class, and it signifies the com- 
mon attributes which constitute the class. It is predicated 
only of the objects ; but when predicated, it conveys the in» 
formation that these objects possess those attributes. Every 
concrete class-name is thus a connotative name. It marks 



CHAP, vni.] CLASSIFICATION. 291 

both the objects and their common attributes^ or rather, that 
portion of their common attributes in virtue of which they 
have been made into a class. It denotes the objects, and, in 
a mode of speech lately revived from the old logicians, it 
connotes the attributes. The author of the Analysis employs 
the word connote in a different manner; we shall presently 
examine which of the two is best. 

We are now ready to consider whether the author's account 
of the ideas connected with General Names is a true and sufiB- 
cient one. It is best expressed in his own words. " The 
** word Man, we shall say, is first applied to an individual ; 
** it is first associated with the idea of that individual, and 
" acquires the power of calling up the idea of him ; it is next 
** applied to another individual, and acquires the power of 
" calling up the idea of him ; so of another, and another, till 
'' it has become associated with an indefinite number, and has 
acquired the power of calling up an indefiinite number of 
those ideas indifferently. What happens ? It does call up 
** an indefinite number of the ideas of individuals, as often as it 
*' occurs, and calling them up in close connexion, it forms them 
''into a species of complex idea. . . . When the word man 
calls up the ideas of an indefinite number of individuals, 
not only of all those to whom I have individually given the 
name, but of all those to whom I have in imagination given 
** it, or imagine it will ever be given, and forms all those ideas 
** into one, — ^it is evidently a very complex idea, and therefore 
" indistinct ; and this indistinctness has doubtless been the 
main cause of the mystery which has appeared to belong 
to it. That this however is the process, is an inevitable 
** result of the laws of association." 

In brief, my idea of a Man is a complex idea compounded of 
the ideas of all the men I have ever known and of all those I 
have ever imagined, knit together into a kind of unit by a close 
association. 

The author's description of the manner in which the class- 
association begins to be formed, is true and instructive ; but 
does any one's idea of a man actually include all that the author 

u2 






€€ 






292 CLASSmCATIOK. [CHAP« Tm. 

finds in it ? By an inevitable result of the laws of associatioD, 
it is impossible to form an idea of a man in the abstract ; the 
class-attributes are always represented in the mind as part of 
an image of an individual, either remembered or imagined; 
this individual may vary from time to time, and several images 
of individuals may present themselves either alternatively or in 
succession : but is it necessary that the name should recal 
images of all the men I ever knew or imagined, or even all of 
whom I retain a remembrance ? In no person who has seen or 
known many men, can this be the case. Apart from the ideas 
of the common attributes, the other ideas whether of attributes 
or of individual men, which enter into the complex idea, are 
indefinitely variable not only in kind but in quantity. Some 
peoples complex idea of the class is extremely meagre, that of 
others very ample. Sometimes we know a class only from its 
definition, i.e. from an enumeration of its class-attributes, as in 
the case of an object which we have only read of in scientific 
books : in such a case the idea raised by the class-name will 
not be limited to the class- attributes, for we are unable to 
conceive any object otherwise than clothed with miscellaneoas 
attributes : but these^ not being derived from experience of 
the objects, may be such as the objects never had, nor could 
have ; while nevertheless the class, and the class-name, answer 
their proper purpose ; they cause us to group together all the 
things possessing the class-attributes, and they inform us 
that we may expect those attributes in anything of which that 
name is predicated. 

The defect, as it seems to me, of the view taken of General 
Names in the text, is that it ignores this distinction between 
the meaning of a general name, and the remainder of the idea 
which the general name calls up. That remainder is uncer- 
tain, variable^ scanty in some cases, copious in others, and 
connected with the name by a very slight tie of association, 
continually overcome by counter-associations. The only part of 
the complex idea that is permanent in the same mind, or common 
to several minds, consists of the distinctive attributes marked 
by the class-name. Nothing else is universally present^ though 



CHJkP. vm.] CLASSIFICATION. 293 

something else is always present : bat whatever eke be present, 
it is through these only that the class-name does its work, and 
effects the end of its existence. We need not therefore be 
snrprised that these attributes, being all that is of importance 
in the complex idea, should for a long time have been supposed 
to be all that is contained in it. The truest doctrine which 
can be laid down on the subject seems to be this — that the idea 
corresponding to a class-name is the idea of a certain constant 
combination of class-attributes, accompanied by a miscellaneous 
and indefinitely variable collection of ideas of individual 
objects belonging to the class. — Ed. 



294 ABSTRACTION. [CHAP. IX. 



\ 



CHAPTER IX. 



ABSTRACTION. 

" I think, too, that he (Mr. Locke) would have seen the ad- 
vantage of * thoroughly weighing,' not only (as he says) * the 
imperfections of Language ;' but its perfections also : For the per- 
fections of Language, not properly understood, have been one of 
the chief causes of the imperfections of our knowledge." — Diver* 
sions of FurUy, hy John Home Tooke^ A.M,^ L 37. • 

The two cases of Consciousness, Classification, and 
Abstraction, have not, generally, been well dis- 
tinguished. 

According to the common accounts of Classification, 
Abstraction was included in it. When it is said, 
that, in order to classify, we leave out of view all the 
circumstances in which individuals difier, and retain 
only those in which they agree ; this separating one 
portion of what is contained in a complex idea, and 
making it an object of consideration by itself, is the 
process which is named Abstraction, at least a main 
part of that process. 

It is necessary now to inquire what are the purposes 
to which this separating of the parts of a complex 
idea, and considering and naming the separated parts 
by themselves, is subservient. 



CHAP. IX.] ABSTRACTION. 295 

We have already observed the following remarkable 
things in the process of naming: 1, Assigning names 
of those clusters of ideas called objects ; as man, fish ; 
2, Generalizing those names, so as to make them re- 
present a class ; 3, Framing adjectives by which minor 
classes are cut out of larger. 

Those adjectives are all names of some separate 
portion of a cluster, and are, therefore, all instruments 
of abstraction, or of that separating one or more of 
the ingredients of a complex idea from the rest, which 
has received the name of Abstraction. One purpose of 
Abstraction, therefore, is the formation of those »u6' 
9pecieSy the formation of which is required for certain 
purposes of speech. 

These observations will be rendered familiar by 
examples. We say, tall man, red flower, race horse. 
In my complex idea of a man, or the cluster of ideas 
of sense to which I affix that mark, are included, 
certain ideas of colour, of figure, size, and so on. By 
the word tall, I single out a portion of those ideas, 
namely, the part relating to size, or rather size in one 
direction, and mark the separation by the sign, or 
name. In my complex idea of a flower, colour is 
always one of the ingredients. By applying the 
adjective red, I single out this one from the rest, and 
point it out for peculiar consideration. The explana- 
tion is obvious, and need not be pursued in a greater 
number of instances. 

Words of this description all denote difierences ; 
either such as mark out species from genera, or such 
as mark out individuals from species. Of this latter 
sort the number is very small ; of which the reason is 
obvious ; individual difierences are too numerous to 



296 ABSTRACTION. [CHAP. H. 

receive names, and are marked by contrivances of 
abridgment which will be spoken of hereafter. 

To explain this notation of difierences, the same 
examples will suffice. In the phrase " tall man/' the 
adjective " tall" marks the difference between such a 
man, and ** short man," or " middle-sized man/' Of 
the genus man, tall men are one species; and the 
difference between them and the rest of the genus is 
marked by the word tall. Of the genus flower, red 
flowers form a species, and the difference between 
them and the rest of the genus is marked by the 
adjective red. Of the genus horse, race horse forms 
a species, and the difference between this species 
and the rest of the genus is marked by the word race. 

It is of importance further to observe, that adjec- 
tives singling oiit ideas which are not differences, that 
is, ideas common to the whole class, are useless : as, 
tangible wood; coloured man; sentient animal. 
Such epithets express no more than what is expressed 
by the name without them. 

Another thing requiring the attention of the stu- 
dent is the mode in which these differential adjectives 
are generalized. As the word man, applied first to 
one individual, then to another, becomes associated 
with every individual, and every variety of the species, 
and calls them all ' up in one very complex idea ; so 
are these adjectives applied to one class after another, 
and by that means at last call up a very complicated 
idea. Let us take the word " black" for an example ; 
and let us suppose that we apply this adjective first to 
the word man. We say " black man." But we 
speedily see that for the same reason for which we 
say black man we may say black horse, black cow. 



\ 



CHAP. IX.] ABSTRACTION. 297 

black coat, and so on. The word black is thus asso- 
ciated with innumerable modifications of the sensation 
black. By frequent repetition, and the gradual 
strengthening of the association, these modifications 
are at last called up in such rapid succession that they 
appear commingled, and no longer many ideas, but 
one. Black is therefore no longer an individual but a 
general name. It marks not the particular black of 
a particular individual ; but the black of every indi- 
vidual, and of all individuals." The same is the case 

^ The example which the author has here selected of a 
general name, sets in a strong light the imperfection of the 
theory of general names, laid down by him in the preceding 
chapter. A name like '' black," which marks a simple sensa- 
tion, is an extreme case of the inapplicability of the theory. 
Can it be maintained that the idea called up in our minds by 
the word black, is an idea compounded of ideas of black men, 
black horses, black cows, black coats, and the like ? If I can 
tmst my own consciousness, the word need not, and generally 
does not, call up any idea but that of a single black surface. 
It is still not an abstract idea, but the idea of an individual 
object. It is not a mere idea of colour ; it is that, combined 
with ideas of extension and figure, always present but extremely 
vague, because varying, even from one moment to the next. 
These vague ideas of an uncertain extension and figure, com- 
bined with the perfectly definite idea of a single sensation of 
colour, are, to my consciousness, the sole components of the com- 
plex idea associated with the word black. I am unable to find 
in that complex idea the ideas of black men, horses, or other 
definite things, though such ideas may of course be recalled by it. 

In such a case as this, the idea of a black colour fills by itself 
the place of the inner nucleus of ideas knit together by a closer 
association, which I have described as forming the permanent 
part of our ideas of classes of objects, and the meaning of 
the class-names.— £(2. 



i 



298 ABSTRACTION. [CHAP. H. 

with all other words of the same class. Thus I 
apply the word sweet, first to the lump of sugar in 
my mouth, next to honey, next to grapes, and so 
on. It thus becomes associated with numerous modi- 
fications of the sensation sweet ; and when the associa- 
tion is sufficiently strengthened by repetition, calls them 
up in such close succession, that they are converted into 
one complex idea. We are also to remember, that the 
idea and the name have a mutual power over one 
another. As the word black calls up the complex 
idea, so every modification of black calls up the name ; 
and in this, as in other cases, the name actually forms 
a part of the complex idea. 

The next thing, which I shall observe, deserves in 
a high degree, the attention of the learner. In the 
various applications of that species of marks which 
we are now considering, they are associated with two 
distinguishable things ; but with the one much more 
than the other. Thus, when we say black man, black 
horse, black coat, and so of all other black things, the 
word black is associated with the cluster, man, as often 
as black man is the expression ; with the cluster horse, 
as often as black horse is the expression, and so on 
with infinite variety : but at the same time that it is 
associated with each of those various clusters, it is 
also associated with the peculiar sensation of colour 
which it is intended to mark. The clusters, there- 
fore, with which it is associated, are variable ; the 
PECULIAR SENSATION with which it is associated is 
invariable. It is much more constantly, and there- 
fore much more strongly associated with the 
SENSATION than with any of the clusters. It is 
at once a name of the clusters, and a name of the 



CHAF. IX.] ABSTRACTION. 299 

sensation ; but it is more peculiarly a name of the 

SENSATION. 

We have, in a preceding note, observed, that such 
words have been called connotative ; and I shall find 
much convenience in using the term notation to 
point out the sensation or sensations which are pecu- 
liarly marked by such words, the term connotation 
to point out the clusters which they mark along with 
this their principal meaning. 

Thus the word, black, notes that of which black is 
more peculiarly the name, a particular colour ; it 
CONNOTES the clusters with the names of which it 
is joined : in the expression, black man, it connotes 
man ; black horse, it connotes horse ; and so of all 
other cases. The ancient Logicians used these 
terms, in the inverse order; very absurdly, in my 
opinion." 

®* The word Connote, with its suhstantive Connotation, was 
used by the old logicians in two senses ; a wider, and a nar- 
rower sense. The wider is that in which, up to this place, the 
author of the Analysis has almost invariably used it ; and is 
the sense in which he defined it, in a note to section 6 of his 
first chapter. '' There is a large class of words which denote 
'* two things both together ; but the one perfectly distinguish- 
" able from the other. Of these two things, also, it is observable, 
" that such words express the one primarily as it were ; the 
" other in a way which may be called secondary. Thus white, 
" in the phrase white horse, denotes two things, the colour and 
" the horse ; but it denotes the colour primarily, the horse 
" secondarily. We shall find it very convenient to say, there- 
"fore, that it notes the primary, connotes the secondary 
" signification." 

This use of terms is attended with the difficulty, that it may 
often be disputed which of the significations is primary and 



800 ABSTRACTION. [cHAP. IX. 

^ In using these connotative names, it is often highly 
convenient to drop the connotation ; that is, to leave 
out the connoted cluster. 

which secondary. In the example given, most people would 
agree with the author that the colour is the primary significa- 
tion ; the word being associated with the objects, only through 
its previous association with the colour. But take the other of 
the two words, horse. That too is connotative, and in the same 
manner. It signifies any and every individual horse, and it also 
signifies those attributes common to horses, which led to their 
being classed together and receiving that common name. 
Which, in this case, is the primary, and which the secondary 
signification ? The author would probably say, that in this 
case, unlike the other, horse is the primary signification, 
the attributes the secondary. Yet in this equally with the 
former case, the attributes are the foundation of the meaning : 
a thing is called a horse to express its resemblance to other 
horses ; and the resemblance consists of the common attributes. 
The question might be discussed, pro and con, by many argu- 
ments, without any conclusive result. The difierence between 
primary and secondary acceptations is too uncertain, and at 
best too superficial, to be adopted as the logical foundation of 
the distinction between the two modes of signification. 

The author, however, has, throughout the preceding chapters, 
regarded words as connoting any number of things which 
tliough included in their signification, are not, in his judgment, 
what they primarily signify. He said, for example, that a 
verb notes an action, and connotes the agent (as either me, 
thee, or some third person), the number of agents (as one or 
more), the time (as past, present, or future), and three modes, 
*' that in which there is no reference to anything preceding, 
that in which there is a reference to something preceding, and 
that in which reference is made to the will of one of the 
Persons." I cite this complicated case, to shew by a striking 
example the great latitude with which the author uses the 
word Connote. 



CHAP. IX.] ABSTRACTION. 301 

A mark is needed, to shew when it is meant that 
the connotation is dropped. A slight mark put npon 
the connotative term answers the purpose ; and shews 

Bat in the present chapter he follows the example of some 
of the old logicians in adopting a second and more restricted 
meaning, expressive of the peculiar connotation which belongs 
to all concrete general names ; viz. that twofold manner of 
signification, by which every name of a class signifies, on the 
one hand, all and each of the individual things composing the 
class, and on the other hand the common attributes, in con- 
sideration of which the class is formed and the name given, 
and which we intend to affirm of every object to which we 
apply the nama It is difficult to overrate the importance of 
keeping in view this distinction, or the danger of overlooking 
it when not made prominent by an appropriate phrase. The 
word Connote, which had been employed for this purpose, had 
fallen into disuse. But, though agreeing with the old logicians 
in using the word Connote to express this distinction, the 
author exactly reverses their employment of it. In their 
phraseology, the class-name connotes the attributes : in his, it 
notes the attributes, and connotes the objects. And he declares 
that in his opinion, their mode of employing the term is very 
absurd. 

We have now to consider which of these two modes of em- 
ploying it is really the most appropriate. 

A concrete general name may be correctly said to be a mark, 
in a certain way, both for the objects and for their common 
attributes. But which of the two is it conformable to usage to 
aay that it is the name of? Assuredly, the objects. It is they 
that are called by the name. I am asked, what is this object 
called ? and I answer, a horse. I should not make this an- 
swer if I were asked what are these attributes called. Again, 
I am asked, what is it that is called a horse ? and I answer, 
the object which you see ; not the qualities which you see. 
Let us now suppose that I am asked, what is it that is called 
black ; I answer, all things that have this particular colour. 



802 ABSTRACTION. [cHAP. IX, 

when it is not meant that any thing should be connoted. 
In regard to the word black, for example, we merely 
annex to it the syllable ness ; and it is immediately 

Black is a name of all black things. The name of the colour 
is not black, but blackness. The name of a thing must be the 
name which is predicated of the thing, as a proper name is 
predicated of the person or place it belongs to. It is scaroely 
possible to speak with precision, and adhere consistently to 
the same mode of speech, if we call a word the name of any- 
thing but that which it is predicated of. Accordingly the old 
logicians, who had not yet departed widely from the castom of 
common speech, considered all concrete names as the names 
of objects, and called nothing the name of an attribute but 
abstract names. 

Now there is considerable incongruity in saying that a word 
connotes, that is, signifies secondarily, the very thing which it 
is a name of. To connote, is to mark something along with, or 
in addition to^ something else. A name can hardly be said to 
mark the thing which it is a name of in addition to some 
other thing. If it marks any other thing, it marks it in addi- 
tion to the thing of which it is itself the name. In the present 
case, what is marked in addition, is that which is the cause of 
giving the name ; the attributes, the possession of which by a 
thing entitles it to that name. It therefore seems more con- 
formable to the original acceptation of the word Connote, that 
we should say of names like man or black that they connote 
humanity or blackness, and (denote, or are names of, men and 
black objects ; rather than, with the author of the Analysis, 
that they note the attributes, and connote the things which 
possess the attributes. 

If this mode of using the terms is more consonant to pro- 
priety of language, so also is it more scientifically convenienL 
It is of extreme importance to have a technical expression ex- 
clusively consecrated to signify the peculiar mode in which 
the name of a class marks the attributes in virtue of which it 
is a class, and is called by the name. The verb '* to note," 



CHAP. IX.J ABSTRACTION. 303 

indicated that all connotation is dropped : so, in sweet- 
ness ; hardness ; dryness ; Kghtness. The new words, 
so formed, are the words which have been denominated 

employed by the author of the Analysis as the correlative of " to 
connote," is far too general to be confined to so specific a use, 
nor does the author intend so to confine it. " To connote," on 
the contrary, is a phrase which has been handed down to us in 
this restricted acceptation, and is perfectly fitted to be used as 
a technical term. There is no more important use of a term 
than that of fixing attention upon something which is in 
danger of not being sufficiently taken notice of. This is em- 
phatically the case with the attribute-signification of the 
names of objects. That signification has not been seen clearly, 
and what has been seen of it confusedly has bewildered or 
misled some of the most distinguished philosophers. From 
Hobbes to Hamilton, those who have attempted to penetrate 
the secret of the higher logical operations of the intellect have 
continually missed the mark for want of the light which a clear 
conception of the connotation of general names spreads over 
the subject. There is no fact in psychology which more 
requires a technical name ; and it seems eminently desirable 
that the words Connote and Connotative should be exclusively 
employed for this purpose ; and it is for this purpose that I 
have myself invariably employed them. 

In studying the Analysis, it is of course necessary to bear 
in mind that the author does not use the words in this sense, 
but sometimes in a sense much more vague and indefinite, and, 
^hen definite, in a sense the reverse of this. It may seem an 
almost desperate undertaking, in the case of an unfamiliar 
term, to attempt to rectify the usage introduced by the actual 
xeviver of the word : and nothing could have induced me to 
attempt it, but a deliberate conviction that such a technical 
expression is indispensable to philosophy, and that the author's 
mode of employing these words unfits them for the purpose 
for which they are needed, and for which they are well adapted. 
I fear, however, that I have rarely succeeded in associating 



804 ABSTRACTION. [cHAP. IX. 

ABSTRACT ; as the connotative terms from which they 
are formed have been denominated concrete ; and, as 
these terms are in frequent use, it is necessary that 
the meaning of them should be well remembered. 

It is now also manifest what is the real nature of 
ABSTRACT tcrms ; a subject which has in general pre- 
sented such an appearance of mystery. They are 
simply the concrete terms, with the tonnotation 
dropped. And this ha^ in it, surely, no mystery at 
all" 



the words with their precise meaning, anywhere bat in my own 
writings. The word Connote, not unfrequently meets us of 
late in philosophical speculations, but almost always in a sense 
more lax than the laxest in which it is employed in the 
Analysis, meaning no more than to imply. To such an extent 
is this the case, that able thinkers and writers do not always 
even confine the expression to names, but actually speak of 
Things as connoting whatever, in their opinion, the existence 
of the Things implies or presupposes. — Ed. 

^ After having said that a concrete general name notes an 
attribute, that is, one of the sensations in a cluster, and connotes 
the objects which have the attribute, i.e. the clusters of which 
that sensation forms a part ; the author proceeds to say that an 
abstract name is the concrete name with the connotation 
dropped. 

This seems a very indirect and circuitous mode of making 
us understand what an abstract name signifies. Instead of 
aiming directly at the mark, it goes round it. It tells us that 
one name signifies a part of what another name signifies, 
leaving us to infer what part. A connotative name with the 
connotation dropped, is a phrase requiring to be completed by 
specifying what is the portion of signification left The con- 
crete name with its connotation signifies an attribute, and also 
the objects which have the attribute. We are now instructed 




CHAP. IX.] ABSTRACTION. 805 

It hence, also, appears that there can be no 
ABSTRACT term without an implied concrete, though 
cases are not wanting, in which there is much occa- 
sion for the ABSTRACT term but not much for the con- 
crete ; in which, therefore, the concrete is not in use, 
or is supplied by another form of expression. 

to drop the latter half of the signification, the ohjects. What 
then remains ? The attrihute. Why not then say at once 
that the abstract name is the name of the attribute ? Why 
tell us that x is a plus b with b dropped, when it was as easy 
to tell us that x is a? 

The noticeable thing however is that if a stands merely for 
the sensation, 2; really is a little more than a: the connota- 
tion (in the author's sense of the term) of the concrete name 
is not wholly dropped in the abstract name. The term black- 
ness, and every other abstract term, includes in its signification 
the existence of a black object, though without declaring what 
it is. That is indeed the distinction between the name of an 
attribute, and the name of a kind or type of sensation. Names 
of sensations by themselves are not abstract but concrete 
names. They mark the type of the sensation, but they do not 
nark it as emanating from any object. '' The sensation of 
black " is a concrete name, which expresses the sensation apart 
from all reference to an object. '* Blackness " expresses the 
same sensation with reference to an object^ by which the sen- 
sation is supposed to be excited. Abstract names thus still 
retain a limited amount of connotation in both the author's 
senses of the term — the vaguer and the more specific sense. It 
is only in the sense to which I am anxious to restrict the term, 
that any abstract name is without connotation. 

An abstract name, then, may be defined as the name of an 
attribute ; and, in the ultimate analysis, as the name of one 
or more of the sensations of a cluster ; not by themselves, but 
considered as part of any or all of the various clusters, into 
which that type of sensations enters as a component part. — Ed. 

VOL. I. X 



306 ABSTRACTION. [CHAF. H. 

In irregulax and capricious languages, as our own, 
the dropping, of the connotation of the concrete terms 
is not marked in a uniform manner ; and this requires 
some illustration. Thus, heavy is a concrete term, 
and we shew the dropping of the connotation, by the 
same mark as in the instances above, saying heavi- 
ness ; but we have another term which is exactly the 
equivalent of heaviness, and frequently used as the 
abstract of heavy ; that is, weight. Friend is a con- 
crete, connotative term, in the substantive form. Its 
connotation is dropped by another mark, the syllable 
ship ; thus, friendship ; in like manner, generalship ; 
brothership ; cousinship. The syllable age is another 
of the marks we use for the same purpose ; pilotage, 
parsonage, stowage. 

Among concrete connotative words, we have already 
had full opportunity of observing that verbs constitute 
a principal class. Those words all note some motion 
or action ; and connote an actor. There is the same 
frequency of occasion to leave out the connotation in 
the case of this class of connotative words, as in other 
classes. Accordingly abstract terms are formed from 
them, as from the connotative adjectives and substan- 
tives. The infinitive mood is such an abstract term ; 
with this peculiarity, that, though it leaves out the con- 
notation of the actor, it retains the connotation of time.** 




®* The infinitive mood does not always express time. At 
least, it often expresses it aoristically, without distinctioD of 
tense. ** To love" is as abstract a name as " love," " to fear," 
as •* fear" : they are applied equally to past, present, and future. 
The infinitives of the past and future, as amavisse, amcUurus 
easBy do, however, include in their signification a particolar 
time.— £d. 



CHAP. IX.] ABSTRACTION. 307 

It is convenient, however, to have abstract terms 
from the verbs, which leave out also the connota- 
tion of time ; such are the substantive amor from amo^ 
timor from timeo, and so on. 

Verbs have not only an active but a passive form. 
In the passive form, it is not the action, but the bear- 
ing of the action, which is noted ; and not the actor, 
but the bearer of the action, that is connoted. In 
this case, also, there is not less frequent occasion to 
drop the connotation. Bj the simple contrivance of 
a slight alteration in the connotative term, the im- 
portant circumstance of dropping the connotation is 
marked. In the case of the passive as the active form 
of verbs, the infinitive mood drops the connotation of 
the person, but retains that of the time. Other 
abstract terms, formed from the passive voice, leave 
out the connotation both of person and time. Thus 
from leyor, there is lectio ; from oj^tor, qptatio ; from 
dicor, dictio ; and so on. 

It is to be remarked that the Latin mode of forming 
abstract terms from verbs, by the termination " tio," 
has been adopted to a great extent in English. A 
large proportion of our abstract terms are thus dis- 
tinguished ; as action, association, imagination, navi- 
gation, mensuration, friction, motion, station, faction, 
legislation, corruption, and many others. 

It is also of extreme importance to mark a great 
defect and imperfection, in this respect, of the Latin 
language. Such words as lectio, dictio, actio, are 
derived with equal readiness either from the supine, 
tectum, dictum, actum; or from the participle, lectus^ 
dictua, actus. The supine is active, the participle, 
pamve. From this circumstance probably it is, that 

x2 



308 ABSTRACTION. [CHAF. IZ. 

these abstract terms in the Latin language possess 
both the active and passive signification ; and by this 
most unfortunate ambiguity have proved a fertile 
source of obscurity and confusion This defect of the 
Latin language is the more to be lamented by us, that 
it has infected our own language ; for as we have 
borrowed firom the Latin language a great proportion 
of our abstract terms, we have transplanted the mis- 
chievous equivocation along with them. This 
ambiguity the Greek language happily avoided : thus 
it had irpa^ig and irpayfia^ the first for the active sig- 
nification of actio, the latter the passive.* 

Of the abstract terms, of genuine English growth, 
derived from the concrete names of action, or verbs, 
the participle of the past tense supplied a great num- 
ber, naerely dropping the adjective, and assuming the 
substantive form. Thus, weight, a word which we 
had occasion to notice before, is the participle weighed, 
with the connotation dropped: stroke is merely 
struck ; the t/iin^ struck, the connotation, being left 
out : thought is the past participle passive of the 
verb to think, and differs from the participle in no- 
thing, but that the participle, the adjective, has the 
connotation ; the abstract, the substantive, has it not. 
Whether the concrete, or the abstract, is the term 
employed, is in such cases always indicated by the 
context ; and, therefore, no particular mark to dis- 
tinguish them is required. 



^ I apprehend that vpayfia is not an abstract bat a con- 
crete term, and does not express the attribate of being done, 
but the thing done-^-the effect which results from the com- 
pleted action. — Ed. 



CHAP. IX.] ABSTRACTION. 309 

In our non-inflected language, a facility is afibrded 
in forming a non-connotative from the connotative, in 
the active voice of verbs ; because the connotative 
word is always distinguished by the presence of the 
persons of the verb, or that of some part of the 
auxiliary verb. The same word, therefore, answers 
for the abstract, as for the concrete ; it being of 
course the abstract, when none of the marks of the 
concrete are present. Thus the word love, is both the 
verb or the connotative, and the substantive or the 
non-connotative ; thus also fear, walk, ride, stand, 
fight, smell, taste, sleep, dream, drink, work, breath, 
and many others. 

We have in English, formed from verbs, a great 
many abstracts or non-connotatives, which terminate in 
" th," as truth, health, dearth, stealth, death, strength. 
It may be disputed whether these words are derived 
from one part of the verb or another ; but, in all other 
respects, the nature of them is not doubtful. The 
third person singular of the present, indicative active, 
ends in " th /' and, therefore, they may be said to be 
that part of the verb with the connotation dropped. 
The termination, however, of the past participle is 
" d/' and we know that " th" and " d," are the same 
letter under a slight difierence of articulation ; and, 
therefore, they may just as well be derived from the 
past participle, and as often at least as they have a 
passive signification, no doubt are. Thus the verb 
trow, to think, has either troweth, or trowed ; from 
one of which, but more likely from the last, we have 
truth : the verb to heal, has either healeth, or healed ; 
from one of which, but more likely the last, we have 
health : the verb to string has stringeth, or stringed; 



810 ABSTRACTION. [CHAF. IX. 

from one of which we have strength ; thus from dieth, 
or died, death; from stealeth, or stealed, stealth; 
mirth in the same manner, from a verb now out of 
use ; so heighth, length, breadth.* 

■^■■^^™ ■ ■ I ■ ■ ■ ■ ^^ — — — 

^ The abstracts in -th belong to a very early stage of the 
language. We cannot now form words like healthy truth, as 
we can abstracts in -ness. As in the case of adjectives in -en 
(wooden), and of preterites and participles like fell, fallen, 
that particular part of the vital energy of the language that 
produced them, is dead — ossified, as it were ; and we cannot 
exemplify their formation by any process now going on. To 
account for many of them, we must suppose them formed 
from roots different from any now existing as separate words 
— roots from which the corresponding verbs and adjectives that 
we are acquainted with have been themselves derived by 
augmentation or other change. This being the case, it is im- 
possible to say with certainty whether the immediate root of 
any particular abstract in -th was a verb, a noun, or an ad- 
jective ; and, indeed, the question need hardly be raised, since 
a primitive root was of the nature of all three. 

The structure of these derivatives is better seen in some 
of the other Teutonic dialects than in the English or the Anglo- 
Saxon, in which the affix is reduced to a mere consonant 
Thus, for Eng. depth the Gothic has diupi-tha ; for heigh'th, 
hauhi'tha. In Old High German the affix 'tha becomes -da, 
and we have heili-da corresponding to Eng. heal-th ; strenki- 
da, to streng-th ; besides a great number of analogous forms, 
such as evi-da, " eternity " (from the same root as ever ; com- 
pare Lat a£ta8 for aevitas). In modem German compara- 
tively few of these derivatives survive ; and in those that do, 
the 'da of the Old German has passed into -cfe, as in ge-baer-de, 
the way of * bearing oneself, behaviour ; equivalent to Latin 
habi'tus. The modem German equivalents of bread-th, 
leng-th, are breit-e, Idng-e; but in some of the popular dia- 
lects the older forms breite-de, Idng-de are still retained ; and 



CHAP. IX.] ABSTRACTION. 311 

It would be interesting to give a systematic ac- 
count of the non-connotatives, derived from English 

in Datch warm-te corresponds to warm-th, and grdt-te is 
greaUness. When we recollect that th or d in the Germanic 
languages represents in such cases the t of the Greek and 
Latin (compare Gr. fjLi\iT{oQ), honey with Goth. mUith: Lat. 
alter with Eng. other) , we cannot help seeing how analogous 
is the formation of the class of words we are now consider- 
ing to that of Latin past participles (ama-tus, dic-tus, audi- 
tus). In the case of those abstracts that seem to come more 
naturally from an adjective root than from a verb, we can 
conceive the adjective formed on the analogy of the past 
participle; just as there are in English adjectives having 
no possible verbal root, yet simulating past participles; 
as able-bodi-edy three-corner-ed. The abstract noun would 
appear to have been originally distinguished from the participle, 
or participial adjective, by some additional affix, as in lec-t-io. 
In Greek and Latin this additional affix very often consisted in 
a reduplication of the formative element t, as if for the purpose 
of denoting multitude, generality ; as in Greek (v£<f-r7jr-oc), 
lALtinjuven-tut-iSy sani-tat-is. It is not impossible that Goth. 
diupi'tha, O.H.G. heili-da are abbreviations of diupi'tha-th, 
keili'da-d, just as Lat. sani-tat has dwindled down in modem 
Ital. to saniiSi. 

In a great many words essentially belonging to the same 
class both in meaning and in mode of formation, the -th has, 
for the sake of euphony or from other causes, given place to 
t or d. Thus mood corresponds to Goth, mo-th, and means a 
motion (Lat. mo^it«) or affection (of the mind) ; blood, to Goth. 
blo'th; theft, is in Ang. Sax. theof-th. Mur-ther, from a 
root akin to Lat. mori ; burthen, from the root of to bear, 
are of similar formation, with additional affixes. 

All these considerations would seem to put Home Tooke's 
proposed derivation of these abstracts from the third person 
singular of the present indicative of the verb, completely out 



312 ABSTEACTION. [cHAP. IX. 

verbs ; and this ought to be done ; but for the present 
inquiry it would be an operation misplaced. The 
nature of the words, and the mode of their significa- 
tion, is all which here is necessary to be understood. 

One grand class of connotative terms is composed 
of such words as the following: walking, running, 
flying, reading, striking ; and we have seen that, for 
a very obvious utility, a generical name was invented, 
the word acting, which includes the whole of these 
specific names ; and to which the non-connotative, or 
abstract term action corresponds. There was equal 
occasion for a generical name to include all the specific 
names belonging to the other class of connotative 
terms ; such as coloured, sapid, hard, soft, hot, cold, 
and so on. But language has by no means been so 
happy in a general name for this, as for the other 
class. The word such, is a connotative term, which 
includes them all, and indeed the other class along with 
them; for when we apply the word such to any thing, we 
comprehend under it all the ideas of which the cluster 



of court. The famous case of truth from troweth is especially 
absurd. For one thing the Ang. Sax. verb treowan does not 
mean " to think," but " to trust," " rely on," " believe." This 
implies a ground for the trust, and that ground lies in the 
quality expressed by the adjective, true. Truth has the same 
relation, logically and etymologically, to true, that dearth has 
to dear, health to hale. Remarking on the identity in form be- 
tween the Ang. Sax. treow, " trust," " a treaty," and treowy " a 
tree," Jacob Grimm suggests that they are radically related, 
and that the idea common to tree and tru£ is firmness, fixedness. 
Thus the " true" would be the " firm" the " fixed"— what may 
be relied on. This view is supported by the analogy of the 
Lat. robur, which means both an oak and strength. — F. 



CHAP, n.] ABSTBACTION. 813 

is composed. But this is not all which is incladed 
under the word such. It is a relative term, and always 
connotes so much of the meaning of some other term. 
When we call a thing such^ it is always understood 
that it is such as some other thing. Thus we say, 
John is such as James. Corresponding with our 
" such as/* the Latins had talis qualis. If we could 
suppose qualis to have been used without any conno- 
tation of talis, qualis would have been such a word as 
the occasion which we are now considering would have 
required. The Latins did not use qualis, in this 
sense, as a general concrete, including all the other 
names of the properties of objects other than actions. 
But they made from it, as if used in that very sense, 
a non-connotative or abstract term, the word quality, 
which answers the same purpose with regard to both 
classes, as action does to one of them. That is to 
say; it is a very general non-connotative term, in- 
cluding under it the non-connotatives or abstracts of 
hot, cold, hard, soft, long, short ; and not only of all 
other words of that description, but of acting, and its 
subordinates also. 

Quantusj is another concrete which has a double 
connotation like qualis. It connotes not only the 
substantive with which it agrees, but also, being a 
relative, the term tantus, which is its correlate. By 
dropping both connotations, the abstract quantity is 
made ; a general term, including under it the abstracts 
of all the names by which the modifications of greater 
and less are denominated ; as large, small, a mile long, 
an inch thick, a handful, a ton, and so on. 

Much remains, beside what is here stated, of the 
full explanation of the mode in which talis qualis. 



314 ABSTRACTION. [cHAP. IX. 

tantus quantus, are made conducive to the great par- 
poses of marking. But this must be reserved till we 
come to treat of Eelative terms, in general. 

We have previously observed, that one of the pur- 
poses for which we abstract, or sunder the parts of a 
complex idea, marked by a general name, is, to form 
those adjectives, or connotative terms, which, denoting 
differences, enable us to form, and to name, subordi- 
nate classes. We now come to the next of the g^eat 
purposes to which abstraction is subservient, and it is 
one to which the whole of our attention is due. 

Of all the things in which we are interested, that is, 
on which our happiness and misery depend, meaning 
here by things, both objects and events, the most im- 
portant by far are the successions of objects ; in other 
words, the effects which they produce. In reality, 
objects are interesting to us, solely on account of the 
effects which they produce, either on ourselves, or on 
other objects. 

But an observation of the greatest importance 
readily occurs; that of any cluster, composing our 
idea of an object, the effects or consequents depend, in 
general, more upon one part of it than another. If 
a stone is /lot, it has certain effects or consequences ; 
if /leavy, it has others, and so on. It is of great im- 
portance to us, in respect to those successions, to be 
able to mark discriminately the real antecedent ; not 
the antecedent combined with a number of things 
with which the consequent has nothing to do. I ob- 
serve, that other objects, as iron, lead, gold, produce 
similar effects with stone ; as often as the name iot 
can, in like manner, be predicated of them. In the 
several clusters therefore, hot stone, hot iron, hot gold. 




CHAP. IX.] ABSTRACTION. 316 

hot lead, there is a portion, the same in all, with 
which, and not with the rest, the effects which I am 
contemplating are connected. This part is marked 
by the word hot ; which word, however, in the case of 
each cluster, connotes also the other parts of the 
cluster. It appears at once, how much convenience 
there must be in dropping the connotation, and ob- 
taining a word which, in each of those cases, shall 
mark exclusively that part of the cluster on which the 
effect depends. This is accomplished by the abstract 
or non-connotative terms, heat, and weight. 

Certain alterations, also, are observed in those parts 
of clusters on which such and such effects depend ; 
which alterations make corresponding alterations in 
the effects, though no other alteration is observable, 
in the cluster, to which such parts belong. Thus, if a 
stone is more or less hot, the effects or successions are 
not the same ; so of iron, so of lead ; but the same 
alteration in the same part of each of those clusters, 
is followed by the same effects. It is true, that we 
know nothing of the alteration in the cause, but by 
the alteration in the effects ; for we only say that a 
stone is hotter, because it produces such other effects, 
either in our sensations immediately, or in the sen- 
sations we receive from other objects. It is, however, 
obvious that we have urgent use for the means of 
marking, not only the alterations in the effects, but 
the alterations in the antecedents. This we do, by 
supposing the alterations to be those of increase and 
diminution, and marking them by the distinction of 
lower and higher degrees. But, for this purpose, it 
is obvious that we must have a term which is not 
connotative ; because we suppose no alteration in any 



316 ABSTRACTION. [CHAF. IX. 

part of the cluster but that which is not oonnoted ; 
thus we can say, with sufficient precision, that a 
greater or less degree of heat produces such and such 
effects; but we cannot say, that a greater or less 
degree of hot stone, of hot iron, of hot any thing else, 
produces these effects. 

This then, is another use, and evidently a most 
important use, of abstract, non-connotative terms. 
They enable us to mark, with more precision, those 
successions, in which our good and evil is whoUy 
contained. 

This also enables us to understand, what it is which 
recommends such and such aggregates, and not others, 
for classification. Those successions of objects, in 
which we are interested, determine the classifications 
which we form of them. 

Some successions are found to depend upon the 
clusters, called objects, all taken together. Thus a 
tree, a man, a stone, are the antecedents of certain 
consequents, as such; and not on account of any 
particular part of the cluster. 

Other consequents depend not upon the whole of 
the cluster, but upon some particular part : thus a tall 
tree, produces certain effects, which a tree not tall, 
cannot produce ; a strong man, produces certain 
effects, which a man not strong cannot produce. 
When these consequents are so important, as to 
deserve particular attention, they and their antece- 
dents must be marked. For this purpose, are em- 
ployed the connotative terms marking differences. 
These terms enable us to group the clusters contain- 
ing those antecedents into a sub-class; and non-con- 
notative or abstract terms, derived from them, enable 



CHAP, n.] ABSTRACTION. 317 

118 to speak separately of that part of the cluster which 
we have to mark as the precise antecedent of the 
consequent which is engaging our attention. 

It is presumed, that these illustrations will suffice, 
to enable the reader to discern the real marking power 
of abstract terms, and also to perceive the mode of 
their formation. 



818 MEMORY. [chap. Z. 



CHAPTER X. 



MEMORY. 

'' The science of metaphysics, as it regards the mind, is, in its 
most important respects, a science of analysis ; and we carry on 
our analysis, only when we suspect that what is regarded by 
others as an ultimate principle, admits of still finer evolution into 
principles still more elementary." — Inquiry into the Belatum qf 
Cause and Effect, hy Thomas Brotcn, M.D, P. iv. s. i. p. 83L 

It has been already observed that if we had no other 
state of consciousness than sensation, we never could 
have any knowledge, excepting that of the present 
instant. The moment each of our sensations ceased, 
it would be gone for ever ; and we should be as if we 
had never been. 

The same would be the case if we had only ideas in 
addition to sensations. The sensation would be one 
state of consciousness, the idea another state of con- 
sciousness. But if they were perfectly insulated ; the 
one having no connexion with the other ; the idea, 
after the sensation, would give me no more informa- 
tion, than one sensation after another. We should 
still have the consciousness of the present instant, and 
nothing more. We should be wholly incapable of 
acquiring experience, and accommodating our actions 




CHAP. X.] MEMORY. 319 

to the laws of nature. Of course we could not con- 
tinue to exist. 

Even if our ideas were associated in trains, but only 
as they are in Imagination, we should still be without 
the capacity of acquiring knowledge. One idea, upon 
this supposition, would follow another. But that 
would be all. Each of our successive states of con- 
sciousness, the moment it ceased, would be gone for 
ever. Each of those momentary states would be our 
whole being. 

Such, however, is not the nature of man. We have 
states of consciousness, which are connected with past 
states. I hear a musical air ; I recognise it as the air 
which was sung to me in my infancy. I have an idea 
of a ghost ; I recognise the terror with which, when 
1 was alone in the dark, that idea, in my childish 
years, was accompanied. Uniting in this manner the 
present with the past, and not otherwise, I am sus- 
ceptible of knowledge ; I am capable of ascertaining 
the qualities of things ; that is, their power of aflfecting 
me; and of knowing in what circumstances what 
other circumstances will take place. Suppose that my 
present state of consciousness is the idea of putting 
my finger in the flame of the candle. I recognise the 
act as a former act f and this recognition is followed 



^ The recognition of an act as a former act, or of a present 
sensation as having formerly occurred, is a phase of the in- 
tellectual power named Conscioasness of Agreement, or Simi- 
larity, which is both an essential of our Knowledge, and a 
means of mental Reproduction. The defectiveness of the 
author's view of this function of the intellect has been elsewhere 
commented on. — B. 



320 MEMORY. [chap. X. 

by another, namely, that of the pain which I felt 
immediately after. This part of my constitution, 
which is of so much importance to me, I find it useful 
to name. And the name I give to it is memory. 
When the memory of the past is transferred into an 
anticipation of the future, by a process which will be 
explained hereafter, it gets the name of experience ; 
and all our power of avoiding evil, and obtaining 
good, is derived from it. Unless I remembered that 
my finger had been in the flame of the candle ; and 
unless I anticipated a similar consequent, from a 
similar antecedent, I should touch the flame of the 
candle, after being burned by it a hundred times, 
just as I should have done, if neither burning nor 
any of its causes had ever formed part of my con* 
sciousness. 

Our inquiry is, what this part of our constitution, 
so highly important to us, is composed of. All in- 
quirers are agreed, that it is complex ; but what the 
elements are into which it may be resolved, has not 
been very successfully made out. 

It is proper to begin with the elements which are 
universally acknowledged. Among them, it is certain, 
that IDEAS are the fundamental part. Nothing is 
remembered but through its idea. The memory, 
however, of a thing, and the idea of it, are not the 
same. The idea may be without the memory; but 
the memory cannot be without the idea. The idea of 
an elephant may occur to me, without the thought of 
its having been an object of my senses. But I cannot 
have the thought of its having been an object of my 
senses, without having the idea of the animal at the 



k 



CHAP. X.] MEMORT. 321 

same time. The consciousness, therefore, which I 
call memory, is an idea, but not an idea alone ; it is 
an idea and something more. So far is our inquiry- 
narrowed. What is that which, combined with an 
idea, constitutes memory ? 

That memory may be, the idea must be. In what 
manner is the idea produced P 

We have already seen in what manner an idea is 
called into existence by association. It is easy to 
prove that the idea which forms part of memory is 
called up in the same wa}^ and no other. If I think 
of any case of memory, I shall always find that the 
idea, or the sensation which preceded the memory, 
was one of those which are calculated, according to 
the laws of association, to call up the idea involved in 
that case of memory ; and that it was by the preceding 
idea, or sensation, that the idea of memory was in 
reality brought into the mind. I have not seen a 
person with whom I was formerly intimate for a 
number of years ; nor have I, during all that interval, 
had occasion to think of him. Some object which 
had been frequently presented to my senses along with 
him, or the idea of something with which I have 
strongly associated the idea of him, occurs to me ; in- 
stantly the memory of him exists. The friend with 
whom I had often seen him in company, accidentally 
meets me ; a letter of his which had been long unob- 
served, falls under my eye ; or an observation which 
he was fond of producing, is repeated in my hearing ; 
these are circumstances all associated with the idea 
of the individual in question ; the idea of him is 
excited by them, and with the mere idea of the 

VOL. I. T 



k 



322 HEMORT. [chap. X. 

man, all the other circumstances which constitnte 
memory. 

The necessary dependence of memory upon associa- 
tion, may be proved stiil more rigidly in this way. It 
has been already observed, that we cannot call up any 
idea by willing it. When we are said to will, there 
must be in the mind, the idea of what is willed. 
" Will, without an idea," are incongruous terms ; as 
if one should say, " I can will, and will nothing." 
But if the idea of the thing willed, must be in the 
mind, as a condition of willing, to will to have an 
idea in the mind, is to will to have that in it, which, 
by the supposition, is in it already. 

There is a state of mind familiar to all men, in which 
we are said to try to remember. In this state, it is 
certain that we have not in the mind the idea which 
we are trying to have in it. How then is it, that we 
proceed in the course of our endeavour to procure its 
introduction into the mind ? If we have not the idea 
itself, we have certain ideas connected with it. We run 
over those ideas, one after another, in hopes that some 
one of them will suggest the idea we are in quest of; 
and if any of them does, it is always one so connected 
with it, as to call it up in the way of association. I 
meet an old acquaintance, whose name I do not 
remember, and wish to recollect. I run over a num- 
ber of names, in hopes that some of them may be 
associated with the idea of the individual. I think of 
all the circumstances in which I have seen him en- 
gaged ; the time when I knew him, the place in which 
I knew him, the persons along with whom I knew 
him, the things he did, or the things he suffered ; and, 
if I chance upon any idea with which the name is 



CHAP. X.] MEMORY. 323 

associated, then immediately I have the recollection ; 
if not, my pursuit of it is in vain." 

There is another set of cases, very familiar, but 
affording very important evidence on the subject. It 
frequently happens, that there are matters which we 
desire not to forget. What is the contrivance to 
which we have recourse for preserving the memory; 
that is, for making sure that it will be called into 
existence, when it is our wish tliat it should. All 
men, invariably employ the same expedient. They 
endeavour to form an association between the idea of 
the thing to be remembered, and some sensation, or 
some idea, which they know beforehand will occur at 
or near the time when they wish the remembrance to 
be in their minds. If this association is formed, and 
the sensation or the idea, with which it has been 
formed, occurs ; the sensation, or idea, calls up the 
remembrance ; and the object of him who formed the 
association is attained. To use a vulgar instance ; a 
man receives a commission from his friend, and, that 
he may not forget it, ties a knot on his handkerchief. 
How is this fact to be explained ? First of all, the 
idea of the commission is associated with the making 
of the knot. Next, the handkerchief is a thing which 
it is known beforehand will be frequently seen, ^jid of 



* This process seems best expressed by laying down a law 
of Gompoand or Composite Association; under wbich a plarality 
of feeble links of connexion may be a substitate for one powerful 
and self-sufficing link. — B, 

[The laws of compound association are the subject of one 
of the most original and profound chapters of Mr. Bain s 
treatise (The Senses and the Intellect. Fart ii. Chap. 8.). — Ed.] 

t2 



824 MEMORY. [chap. X. 

course at no great distance of time from the occasion 
on which the memory is desired. The handkerchief 
being seen, the knot is seen, and this sensation recalls 
the idea of the commission, between which and itself, 
the association had been purposely formed. 

What is thus effected through association with a 
sensation, may be effected through association with 
an idea. If there is any idea, which I know will 
occur to me at a particular time, I may render my- 
self as sure of recalling any thing which I wish to 
remember at that time, by associating it with this 
idea, as if I associated it with a sensation. Suppose 
I know that the idea of Socrates will be present to 
my mind at twelve o'clock this day week : if I wish 
to remember at that time something which I have to 
do, my purpose will be gained, if I establish between 
the idea of Socrates, and the circumstance which I 
wish to remember, such an association that the one 
will call up the other. 

A very remarkable application of this principle 
offers itself* to our contemplation, in the artificial 
memory which was invented by the ancient orators 
and rhetoricians. The orator made choice of a set 
of objects, sufficient in number to answer his purpose. 
The ideas of those objects he taught himself, by fre- 
quent repetition, to pass through his mind in one 
constant order. The objects which he chose were 
commonly such as aided him in fixing them according 
to a certain order in his memory ; the parts, for ex- 
ample, of some public building, or other remarkable 
assemblage. Having so prepared himself, the mode 
in which he made use of his machinery was as fol- 
lows. The topics or sentiments of his speech were 



k 



CHAP. X.] MEMORY. 325 

to follow in a certain order. The parts of the build- 
ing he had chosen as his instrument had previously 
been taught to follow by association, in a certain 
order. With the first of these, then, he associated 
the first topic of his discourse ; with the second, the 
second, and so on. The first part of the building 
suggested the first topic ; the second, the second ; and 
each another, to the end of his discourse." 

We not only have ideas of memory, individually 
taken ; that is, separately, each by itself ; as in the 
instances which we have just been considering : we 
have also trains of such ideas. All narratives of 
events which ourselves have witnessed are composed 
of such trains. The ideas forming those trains do 
not follow one another in a fortuitous manner. Each 
succeeding idea is called up by the one which pre- 

^ The conditions of the success of this expedient are in- 
teresting to study as illustrations of the working of association. 
The supposition is that the parts of the building are perfectly 
coherent in the mind, that they can recall each other easily 
and rapidly. The advantage gained will depend entirely upon 
the superior facility of attaching a head of discourse to the 
visible appearance of a room, as compared with the facility of 
attaching it to a previous head. If we can form an enduring 
bond between a topic and the picture of an interior, by a smaller 
mental effort than is necessary to conjoin two successive topics, 
there is a gain by the employment of the device ; the difference 
of the two efforts is the measure of the gain. Probably the 
result would depend upon the relative force of the pictorial 
and the verbal memory in the individual mind. In minds 
where the pictorial element prevails, there might be a positive 
advantage ; in cases where the pictorial power is feeble and the 
verbal power strong, there would almost certainly be a dead 
loss. — B, 




826 MKMOBT. [chap. X. 

cedes it; and every one of these successions ts^es 
place according to a law of association. After a lapse 
of many years, 1 see the house in which my father 
died. Instantly a long train of the circumstances 
connected with him rise in my mind : the sight of 
him on his death* hed ; his pale and emaciated counte- 
nance ; the calm contentment with which he looked 
forward to his end ; his strong solicitude, terminating 
only with life, for the happiness of his son ; my own 
sympathetic emotions when I saw him expire ; the 
mode and guiding principles of his life ; the thread 
of his history ; and so on. In this succession of ideas, 
each of which is an idea of memory, there is not a 
single link which is not formed by association ; not 
an idea which is not brought into existence by that 
which precedes it. 

Whensoever there is a desire to fix any train in 
the memory, all men have recourse to one and the 
same expedient. They practise what is calculated to 
create a strong association. The grand cause of strong 
associations is repetition. This, accordingly, is the 
common resource. If any man, for example, wishes 
to remember a passage of a book, he repeats it a suffi- 
cient number of times. To the man practised in ap- 
plying the principle of association to the phenomena 
in which it is concerned, the explication of this pro- 
cess presents itself immediately. The repetition of 
one word after another, and of one idea after another, 
gives the antecedent the power of calling up the con- 
sequent from the beginning to the end of that portion 
of discourse, which it is the purpose of the learner to 
remember. 

That the remembrance is produced in no other way, 



CHAP. Z.] MEMORY. 327 

is proved by a decisive experiment. For, afber a pas- 
sage has been committed to memory in the most 
perfect manner, if the learner attempts to repeat it in 
any other order than that, according to wliich the 
association was formed, he will fail. A man who has 
been accustomed to repeat the Lord's Prayer, for 
example, from his infancy, will, if he has never tried 
it, find the impossibility of repeating it backwards, 
small as the number is of the words of which it consists. 
That words alone, without ideas, suggest one 
another in a train, is proved by our power of re- 
peating a number of words of an unknown language." 
And, it is worth observing, that the power of arith- 
metical computation is dependent upon the same 
process. Thus, for example, when a child learns the 
multiplication table, and says, 11 times 11 is 121, or 
12 times 12 is 144, he annexes no ideas to those 
words I but, by force of repetition, the expression 1 2 
times 12 instantly calls up the expression 144, or 11 
times 11 the expression 121, and so upwards from 
twice 2, with which he begins. In illustrating the 
mode in which repetition makes association more and 
more easy, I used the process of arithmetical addition 
as a striking example. Persons little accustomed to 
the process perform it with great difficulty ; persons 



^ There is here a lapse, of mere expression. The meaning 
is not that words suggest one another without ideas ; words do 
not suggest words, but the ideas of words. The author in- 
tended to say that words, or the ideas of them, often suggest 
the ideas of other words (forming a series) without suggesting 
along with them any ideas of the things which those words 
signify. — Ed, 



328 MEMORY. [chap. X. 

much accustomed to it, with astonishing facility. In 
men of the first class, the association is imperfectly 
formed, and the several antecedent expressions slowly 
suggest the proper consequent ones ; in those of the 
latter class the association is very perfectly formed, 
and the expressions suggest one another with the 
greatest expedition and ease. 

Thus far we have proceeded with facility. In 
Memory there are ideas, and those ideas both rise up 
singly, and are connected in trains by association. 
The same occurs in Imagination. Imagination con- 
sists of ideas, both suggested singly, and connected 
in trains, by association. This is the whole account 
of Imagination. But Memory is not the same with 
Imagination. We all know, when we say, we 
imagine a thing, that we have not the same meaning, 
as when we say, we remember it. Memory, there- 
fore, has in it all that Imagination has ; but it must 
also have something more. We are now, then, to 
inquire what that additional something is. 

There are two cases of Memory. One is, when we 
remember sensations. The other is, when we re- 
member ideas. The first is, when we remember 
what we have seen, felt, heard, tasted, or smelt 
The second is, when we remember what we have 
thought, without the intervention of the senses. I 
remember to have seen and heard George III., when 
making a speech at the opening of his Parliament. 
This is a case of sensation. I remember my concep- 
tions of the Emperor Napoleon and his audience, 
when I read the account of his first address to the 
French Chambers. This is a case of ideas. 




CHAP. X.] MEMORY. 329 

We shall consider the case of sensations first. 
What is it to remember any thing I have seen ? 

First, there is the idea of it ; and that idea brought 
into existence by association. 

But, in Memory, there is not only the idea of the 
thing remembered; there is also the idea of my 
having seen it. Now these two, 1, the idea of the 
thing, 2, the idea of my having seen it, combined, 
make up, it will not be doubted, the whole of that 
state of consciousness which we call memory." 

But what is it we are to understand by what I 
have called "the idea of my having seen the object?" 
This is a very complex idea; and, in expounding, 
clearly, to the comprehension of persons, not familiar 
with these solutions, the import and force of a very 
complex idea, lies all the difficulty of the case. 

It will be necessary for such persons to call to mind 
the illustrations they have already contemplated of 
the remarkable case of association, in which a long 
train of ideas is called up so rapidly as to appear but 
one idea; and also the other remarkable case, in 
which one idea is so strongly associated with another, 
that it is out of our power to separate them. Thus, 
when we use the word battle, the mind runs over the 

•^ The doctrine which the author thinks "will not be 
doubted" is more than doubted by most people, and in my 
judgment rightly. To complete the memory of seeing the 
thing, I must have not only the idea of the thing, and the idea 
of my having seen it, but the belief of my having seen it ; and 
even this is not always enough ; for I may believe on the 
authority of others that 1 have seen a thing which I have no 
remembrance of seeing. — Ed. 



k 



330 HEHORT. [chap. X. 

train of coontleBa acts, from the beginniiig of that 
operation to the end ; and it does this bo rapidly, that 
the ideas are all clustered into one, which it calls a 
hattle. In like manner, it clusters a series of battles, 
and all the intermediate operations, into one idea, and 
calls it a campaign ; also several campaigns into one 
idea, and calls it a war. Of the same nature is the 
compound idea, which we denote by the word year; 
and the still more compound idea, which we denote 
by the word century. The mind runs over a long 
train of ideas, and combines them so closely to- 
gether, that they assume the appearance of a single 
idea ; to which, in the one case, we assign the name 
year, in the other, the name century. 

In my remembrance of George III., addressing 
the two Houses of Parliament, there is, first of all, 
the mere idea, or simple apprehension ; the conception 
as it is sometimes called, of the objects. There is 
combined with this, to make it memory, my idea of 
my having seen and heard those objects. And this 
combination is so close, that it is not in my power to 
separate them. I cannot hare the idea of George 
III. ; his person and attitude, the paper he held in his 
hand, the sound of his voice while reading from it, 
the throne, the apartment, the audience; without 
having the other idea along with it, that of my 
having been a witness of the scene. 

Now, in this last-mentioned part of the compound, 
it is easy to perceive two important elements ; iAe 
idea of my present self, the remembering self; and the 
idea of my past self, the remembered or witnessing 
self. These two ideas stand at the two ends of a 
portion of my being ; that is, of a series of my states 



CHAP. Z.] MEMORY. 331 

of consciousness. That series consists of the succes- 
sive states of my consciousness, intervening between 
the moment of perception, or the past moment, and 
the moment of memory, or the present moment. 
What happens at the moment of memory ? The 
mind runs back from that moment to the moment of 
perception. That is to say, it runs over the inter- 
vening states of consciousness, called up by associa- 
tion. But " to run over a number of states of con- 
sciousness, called up by association,'' is but another 
mode of saying, that " we associate them ;" and in 
this case we associate them so rapidly and closely, 
that they run, as it were, into a single point of con- 
sciousness, to which the name memory is assigned. 

If this explanation of the case in which we remember 
sensations is understood, the explanation of the case in 
which we remember ideas cannot occasion much of 
difficulty. 1 have a lively recollection of Polyphemus's 
cave, and the actions of Ulysses and the Cyclops, as 
described by Homer. In this recollection there is, 
first of all, the ideas, or simple conceptions of the 
objects and acts ; and along with these ideas, and so 
closely combined as not to be separable, the idea of my 
having formerly had those same ideas. And this idea 
of my having formerly had those ideas, is a very com- 
plicated idea; including the idea of myself of the 
present moment remembering, and that of myself of 
the past moment conceiving ; and the whole series of 
the states of consciousness, which intervened between 
myself remembering, and myself conceiving. 

If we contemplate forgetfulness, not memory, we 
shall see how completely the account of it confirms 
the account we have just rendered of memory. Every 



382- MEMORY. [chap. Z. 

case of forgetfulness, is a case of weakened, or extinct, 
association. Some years ago, I could repeat a certain 
discourse with accuracy and ease, from beginning to 
end; attempting it, the other day, I was unable to 
repeat more than a few sentences. The reason is 
obvious. The last of the words and ideas which 
occurred to me failed to suggest the following ; that 
is to say, the association which formerly existed be- 
tween them was dissolved. 

A remarkable piece of natural scenery, composed of 
mountains, woods, rivers, lakes, ocean, flocks, herds, 
cultivated fields, gay cottages, and splendid palaces, 
of which I had a lively recollection many years ago, 
presents itself to me now very much faded : in other 
words, a great variety of the circumstances, which 
make up the detail and minute features of the scene, 
were formerly remembered by me, but are now for- 
gotten. And how forgotten? The manner is obvious. 
The greater features, which I still remember, had 
formerly the power of calling up the smaller along 
with them, and the whole scene was revived; the 
association gradually declining, the great objects have 
no longer the power to excite the idea of the small ; 
and they are therefore gone from me for ever. 

There are things of which I have so entirely lost the 
recollection, that it never can be revived. The mean- 
ing is, that the associations which were formed be- 
tween the ideas of them, and other ideas, are so 
completely dissolved, that none of my present ideas 
has the power of exciting them. 

It is observable, that sensations have a stronger 
power to excite recollections than is possessed by 




CHAP. X.] MEMORY. 338 

ideas." A man, after an absence of many years, 
revisits the scenes of his infancy : a variety of circum- 
stances crowd into his memory, which, but for the 
scene before him, would never have been remembered 
again. These are the circumstances between which, 
and the perception of the pristine objects, the associa- 
tion is not yet dissolved. There are other circum- 
stances, without number, which (the association being 
completely dissolved) not even that perception can 
revive, and which never can be remembered more. 

We have seen that there are two cases of memory ; 
that in which sensations are remembered, and that in 
which ideas. 

It is said, that there are men, who, by often telling 
a mendacious story as true, come at last to believe it 
to be true. When this happens, the fact is, that a 
case of the memory of ideaSy comes to be mistaken for 
a case of the memory of sensations. 

How did the man know at first that it was a ficti- 
tious story; and how did he afterwards lose that 
knowledge ? 

He knew, at first, by certain associations ; he lost 
his knowledge, by losing those associations, and ac- 

•• This i8 for no other reason than the superior intensity or 
impressiveness of the actual as compared with the ideal. 
Although as a rule, the sensation has a greater hold of the 
mind, than the corresponding idea, there are exceptions. An 
idea may sometimes he accompanied with an intensity of mental 
occupation and excitement, surpassing the reality : what we 
have looked at with indifference when it occurred, may take on 
an extraordinary importance in the retrospect; in which case 
its power of resuscitating collateral circumstances will be far 
greater than the power of the original sensation. — B, 



834 MEMORY. [chap. X. 

quiring others in their stead. When he first told the 
story, the circumstances related called up to him the 
idea of himself fabricating the story. This was the 
memoiy of the fabrication. In repeating the story as 
real, the idea of himself fabricating the story is hurried 
over rapidly ; the idea of himself as actor in the story 
is dwelt upon with great emphasis. In continued re- 
petitions, the first circumstance being attended to as 
little as possible, the association of it grows weaker 
and weaker; the other circumstance engrossing the 
attention, the association of it grows stronger and 
stronger ; till the weaker is at last wholly overpowered 
by the stronger, and ceases to have any effect. 

In delirium, madness, and dreams, men believe that 
what they only imagine, they hear, see, and do. This 
so far agrees with the case of forgetfulness, just ex- 
plained, that, in both, there is a mistake of ideas for 
sensations ; but, in the case of memory, it is a mistake 
of past ideas for past sensations ; in delirium, madness, 
and dreaming, it is a mistake of present ideas for 
present sensations. 

How men in sound memory distinguish the ideas 
remembered, from sensations remembered, and know 
that the one is not the other, seems to be accounted 
for by the difference of the things themselves. A 
sensation is different from an idea, only because it is 
felt to be different ; and being felt to be different, and 
known to be different, are not two things, but one 
and the same thing. I have a sensation ; I have an 
idea : if these two are distinguishable in the having, 
it is likely that the copy of the sensation should be 
distinguishable from the revival of the idea, when they 
are both brought up by association ; just as when I 



CHAP. X.] MEMORY. 335 

Lave two distinguishable sensations, one, for example, 
of red, and another of black, the copies of them, when 
brought up by association, are distinguishable. Be- 
sides, the accompaniments of a sensation are always 
generically different from those of an idea ; of course, 
the associations are generically different. The accom- 
paniments of a sensation, are all the simultaneous 
objects of sensation, together with all those which, to a 
certain extent, both preceded and followed it. The 
accompaniments of an idea are not the simultaneous 
objects of sensation, but other ideas; namely, the 
neighbouring parts, antecedent and consequent, of 
the mental train. A sensation, therefore, called up 
by association, and an idea called up by association, 
are distinguished both by the difference of the two 
feelings, and the difference of the associated circum- 
stances. 

It is observable, that the idea of a sensation called 
up by association, and recognised as the idea of a 
sensation, is of course a remembrance. The recogni- 
tion consists in that highly complex idea, consisting of 
three principal ingredients : 1, the point of conscious- 
ness called the remembering self; 2, the point of con- 
sciousness called the percipient self; 3, the successive 
states of consciousness which filled up the interval 
between these two points. 

An idea called up by association is not necessarily a 
remembrance ; it is only a remembrance when recog- 
nised as having been an idea before. And it is re- 
cognised as having been an idea before, by the asso- 
ciation of that idea, which connects the self of the 
present momient with the self of the past moment, the 
remembering self with the conceiving self: in other 



836 MEMORY. [chap. Z. 

words, the complex idea is made up of those two selfis 
and the intermediate states of consciousness. 

Another distinction is here suggested between the 
memory of a sensation and the memory of an idea. 
The complex idea, which needs to be associated with 
a mere simple idea, to make it memory, is not the 
same in the two cases. There is a specific difference. 
The self which is at the antecedent end of the asso- 
ciated train, in the case of sensation, is the sentient 
self ; that is, seeing or hearing ; the self at the ante- 
cedent end of the associated train, in the case of 
ideas, is not the sentient self, but the conceptiye self, 
self having an idea. But myself percipient, and my- 
self imagining or conceiving, are two very different 
states of consciousness : of course the ideas of these 
states of consciousness, or these states revived by 
association, are very different ideas. 

The simplest of all cases of memory is that of a 
sensation immediately past. I have one sensation, 
and another sensation ; call them A and B ; and I 
recognise them as successive. Every man has ex- 
perience of the fact, and is familiar with it. But not 
every man can tell what it involves. 

When a sensation ceases, it is as completely gone, 
as if it had never existed."" It is, in a certain sense, 

^ This is a statement that should he qualified. Lookiog to 
the change of outward situation, we may say that the difference 
between the present reality, and the idea of it when past, is 
total and vast: the wide prospect before the eyes at one 
moment is gone, annihilated, non-existent. But looking at 
the mental process, we must use more moderate language. 
The mind does not adapt itself to the new situation with the 
same rapidity. If one is very much impressed with a picture. 




CHAP. Z.] MEMOKT. 337 

revived again in its idea. But that idea must be 
called into existence by something with which it is 
associated. In my two sensations, supposed above, 
the one antecedent, the other consequent, how do I 
recognise the succession ; if the first is gone, before 
the coming of the second? It is evident that it 
must be by memory. And how by memory ? The 
preceding developments seem to make the process 
clear. The consciousness of the present moment calls 
up the idea of the consciousness of the preceding 
moment. The consciousness of the present moment 
is not absolutely simple ; for, whether I have a sen- 
sation or idea, the idea of what I call Myself is always 
inseparably combined with it. The consciousness, 
then, of the second of the two moments in the case 
supposed, is the sensation combined with the idea of 
Myself, which compound I call " Myself Sentient." 
This " Self Sentient," in other words sensation B, com- 
bined with the idea of self, calls up the idea of 
sensation A combined with the idea of self. This we 
call Memort ; and, there being no intermediate link, 
immediate memory. Suppose that, instead of two 
sensations, there had been three. A, B, C. In order 

one malDtaiDS the rapt attitude for a little time, after the pic- 
ture is withdrawn, and only by degrees loses the hold in 
favoar of the next thing presented to the view. It is possible 
for OS to resist the solicitation of the actual scene, and to be 
absorbed to the full measure of actuality by something no 
longer actual. The immediate past may still divide the empire 
irith the present. The psychological transition follows a 
different law from the objective transition : a circumstance in 
no small degree involved in the subtle question of our mental 
oontinaity or personal identity. — B. 

VOL. I. 2 



33S MEMOBT. [chap. X. 

to remember A, it is necessary to step over B. The 
consciousness of the third moment, namely, "sensa- 
tion C, united with the idea of self," calls up the 
idea of " sensation A, united with the idea of self," 
and along with this the intermediate state of con- 
sciousness, " B, with the constant concomitant self." 
If the intermediate state, B, were not included, the 
sensation A would appear to have immediately pre- 
ceded sensation C, and the memory would be in- 
accurate. 

We have thus carried the analysis of Memory to a 
certain point. We have found the association to 
consist of three parts ; the remembering self; the 
remembered self; and the train which intervened. 
Of these three parts, the last has been fully expounded. 
The recalling of the successive states of consciousness, 
which composed the intervening train, is an ordinary 
case of association. The other parts, tAe two selfs, at the 
two extremities of this train, require further considera- 
tion. The self, at the first end, is the remembered 
self ; the self which had a sensation, or an idea. The 
idea of this self, therefore, consists of two parts : of 
self, and a sensation, or an idea. The last-mentioned 
part of this combination, the sensation or idea, needs 
no explanation ; the first, that which is called self, 
does. The self at the other extremity of the chain of 
consciousness, is the remembering self. Remembering 
is associating. The idea of this self, then, is the 
combination of self with the idea of associating. And 
here, too, associating needs no explanation; it is 
the other part of the combination that does. The 
analysis, then, of self, or the account of what 
is included in that state of consciousness commonly 




CHAP. X.] MEMORY. 389 

called the idea of personal identity^ is still wanting 
to the complete developement of Memory. 

Philosophers tell us also, that the idea of 'Rme is 
included in every act of memort ; and again, that it 
is from MEMORY we obtain our idea of Time : thus 
asserting that the idea of Time must precede memory, 
and that memory must precede the idea of Time. 
These contradicting propositions imply that the idea of 
Time in the minds of those who make them, is a very 
confused idea. Nevertheless, as there can be no 
memory without the idea called Time, the exposition 
of that idea, likewise, is necessary to the full under- 
standing of Memory. 

The idea of personal Identity, and the idea of 
Time, two very remarkable states of consciousness, 
will be very carefully examined hereafter. But for 
the more ready understanding of what is necessary to 
be adduced in expounding those complicated cases of 
association, some other phenomena of the mind will 
first be explained. 

What is to be understood by that belief which is 
said to accompany memory, will be seen in the next 
chapter, where all the different cases of belief will be 
resolved into their elements.** 

•* The only diflBculty about Memory, when once the laws of 
Association are understood, is the difference between it and 
Imagination ; but this is a difference which will probably long 
continue to perplex philosophers. The author finds in Memory, 
besides the idea of the fact remembered, two other ideas : '' the 
idea of my present self, the remembering self, and the idea of 
my past self, the remembered or witnessing self:" and a sup- 
posed rapid repetition in thought, of the wliole of the impres- 
sions which I received between the time remembered and the 

z2 



340 MEMORY. [chap. X. 

time of remembering. But (apart from the question whether 
we really do repeat in thought, however summarily, all this 
series) explaining memory by Self seems very like explaining 
a thing by the thing. For what notion of Self can we have, 
apart from Memory ? The fact of remembering, i.e. of having 
an idea combined with the belief that the corresponding sen- 
sation was actually felt by me, seems to be the very elementary 
fact of Self, the origin and foundation of the idea ; presupposed 
in our having the very complex notion of a Self, which is here 
introduced to explain it. As, however, the author admits that 
the phenomenon of Belief, and the notions of Time and of 
Personal Identity, must be taken into account in order to give 
a complete explanation of Memory, any further remarks had 
better be deferred until these subjects have been regularly 
brought under our consideration. — Ed. 



CHAP. ZI.] BELIBF. 841 



CHAPTER XL 



BELIEF. 

^ Cette recherche peut infiniment contribuer aux progres de 
Tart de raisonner ; elle le peut seule d^velopper jusques dans sea 
premiers principes. En effet, nous ne d^couyrirons pas une 
maniere siire de conduire constamment nos pens6es ; si nous ne 
savons pas, comment elles se sont formSes." — Gondillac^ TraUi 
des SetuatianSy p. 460. 

It is not easy to treat of memory, belief, and 
JUDGMENT, separately. For, in the rude and unskilful 
manner in which naming has been performed, the 
states of consciousness, marked by those terms, are 
not separate and distinct. 

Fart of that which is named by memory is in- 
cluded under the term belief; and part of that 
which is named by judgment, is also included under 
the name belief. Belief, therefore, instead of having 
a distinct province to itself, encroaches on the pro- 
vinces both of memory, and judgment ; from which 
great confusion has arisen. 

I take MEMORY first, and judgment last, from no 
other principle of arrangement, than facility of exposi- 



342 BELIEF. [chap. XI. 

tion ; and I have in this way found it convenient to 
treat of judgment as a case of belief.^ 

We begin as usual with the simplest cases. These 
are, the case of a simple sensation, and the case of a 
simple idea. When we have a sensation, we believe 
that we have it ; when we have an idea, we believe 
that we have it. 

But, to have a sensation, and to believe that we have 
it, are not distinguishable things. When I say " I 
have a sensation," and say, "IbeUeve that I have 
it," I do not express two states of consciousness, but 
one and the same state. A sensation is a feeling ; 
but a feeling, and the belief of it are the same thing. 
The observation applies equally to ideas. When I 
say I have the idea of the sun, I express the 
same thing, exactly, as when I say, that I believe I 
have it. The feeling is one, the names, only, are 
two.** "^ 




•* How is it possible to treat of Belief without including in 
it Memory and Judgment ? Memory is a case of belief. In 
what does Memory differ from Imagination, except in the belief 
that what it represents did really take place ? Judgment, in 
its popular acceptation, is Belief resulting from deliberate 
examination, in other words. Belief grounded on evidence : 
while in its philosophical sense it is coextensive, if not syno- 
nymous, with Belief itself. I do not know how it is possible to 
distinguish a judgment from any other process of the mind, 
except by its being an act of belief. — Ed, 

^ In the case of a present reality, belief has no place ; it 
can be introduced only by a fiction or a figure. The believing 
state comes into operation when something thought of is still 
remote, and attainable by an intermediate exertion. The fact 
" I see the sun" is full firuition : the fact that I can see the 



CHAP. XI.] BEIJEF. 343 

It may be alleged that, when I say "I have a 
sensation," I express the simple feeling, as derived 
from the outward sense; but that when I say "I 
believe I have a sensation," I express two things, the 
simple sensation, and the association with it, of that 
remarkable idea, the idea of myself. The association, 
however, is the same in both cases. As I never have 
the sensation of an object, the sight, for example, of 
a rose, without associating with it, the idea of posi- 
tion, and also that of unity ; nor the idea of such an 
object, without the same association ; so I never have 
a sensation, nor the idea of that sensation, without 
associating with it, the idea of myself And in both 
cases, the associations are of that remarkable class, 
which we have denominated inseparable. It is not 
in our power to prevent them. Whensoever the per- 
ception of the object exists, the idea of its position is 
sure to exist along with it ; whensoever one of my 
sensations exists, the idea of myself exists along with 



san by going out of doors affords scope for belief or dis- 
belief.— 5. 

^ The difference between Mr. Bain and the author is but in 
language and classification. It is necessary for the reader of 
the Analysis to remember, that the author uses the word Belief 
as the most general terra for every species of conviction or 
assurance ; the assurance of what is before our eyes, as well as 
of that which we only remember or expect ; of what we know 
by direct perception, as well as of what we accept on the evi- 
dence of testimony or of reasoning : all this we are convinced 
or persuaded of; all this, in the author's language, we believe. 
Mr. Bain, on the other hand, like Sir William Hamilton and 
manv others, restricts the term to those cases of conviction 
which are short of direct intuition. — Ed. 



344 BELIEF. [chap. XI. 

it; whensoever one of my ideas exists, the idea of* 
myself is sure to exist along with it. 

In the case, then, of a present sensation, and that 
of a present idea ; the sensation, and the belief of the 
sensation ; the idea, and the belief of the idea, are 
not two things ; they are, in each case, one and the 
same thing ; a single thing, with a double name. 

The several cases of Belief may be considered 
under three heads : I., Belief in events, real exis- 
tences ; II., Belief in testimony ; and III., Belief 
in the truth of propositions. We shall consider 
them in their order ; and first. Belief in events, real 
existences. 

I. This is subdivided into three distinct cases : 1, 
Belief in present events ; 2, Belief in past events ; 3, 
Belief in future events. 

1 . Belief in present events, again, is divided into 
two cases : 1, Belief in immediate existences present 
to my senses ; 2, Belief in immediate existences not 
present to my senses. 

Belief in existences present to my senses, includes, 
for one element, belief in my sensations ; and belief 
in my sensations, as we have just observed, is only 
another name for having the sensations. 

But belief in the external objects, is not simply be- 
lief in my present sensations ; it is this, and some- 
thing more. The something more, is now the object 
of our inquiry. I see, for example, a rose : my sensa- 
tion is a sensation of sight ; that of a certain modifi- 
cation of light ; but my belief of the rose is not this ; 
it is this, and much more. 

Besides the sensation of colour, I have, for one 
thing, the belief of a certain distance, at which I see 



CHAP. ZI.] BELIEF. 845 

the rose ; and that of a certain figure, consisting of 
leaves disposed in a certain form. I believe that I 
see this distance and* form ; in other words, perceive 
it by the eye, as immediately as I perceive the colour. 
Now this last part of the process has been explained 
by various philosophers. There is no dispute, or un- 
certainty, about the matter. All men admit, that 
this, one of the most remarkable of all cases of belief, 
is wholly resolvable into association." It is acknow- 
ledged, that, by the sense of sight, we receive no 
sensation but that of a certain modification of light. 
It is equally proved, that the sensations from which 
our ideas of distance and figure are derived, are sensa- 
tions of the muscular actions and touch. How, then, 
is the Belief generated, that we see extension and 
figure, as well as colour ? After the experience the 
learner has now had in tracing the rapid combina- 
tions of the mind, this presents but little difficulty. 
He knows, that when we are receiving through the 
muscles and the touch, the sensations which yield us 
the idea of extension and figure, we are receiving the 
sensations of sight at the same time, from the same 
objects. The sensations of sight, therefore, are asso- 

* *' All men admit." Certainly not all men ; though, at the 
time when the author wrote, it might be said, with some plau- 
sibility, all psychologists. Unfortunately this can no longer 
be said : Mr. Samuel Bailey has demanded a rehearing of the 
question, and has pronounced a strong and reasoned opinion 
on the contrary side ; and his example has been followed by 
several other writers : but without, in my opinion, at all weaken- 
ing the position which since the publication of Berkeley's Essay 
on Vision, had been almost unanimously maintained by 
philosophers.— fid. 



346 BELIEF. [chap. XI. 

ciated with the ideas of these tactile and muscular 
sensations ; and associated in the most perfect possible 
manner ; because the conjunction is almost invariable^ 
and of incessant occurrence, during the whole period 
of life. We are perpetually feeling, and seeing, the 
same objects, at the same time ; so much so, that our 
lives may be said to consist of those sensations in 
union ; to consist, at least to a far greater degree, of 
this, than of any one other state of consciousness. 

This intensity of association, we know, produces 
two effects. One, is to blend the associated feelings 
so intimately together, that they no longer appear 
many, but one feeling. The other is, to render 
the combination inseparable; so that if one of the 
feelings exist, the others necessarily exist along 
with it. 

The case of association which we are now con- 
sidering, brings to view another circumstance, of some 
importance in tracing the effects of this great law of 
our nature. It is this : that in any associated cluster, 
the idea of sight is almost always the prevalent part. 
The visible idea is that which takes the lead, as it 
were ; and serves as the suggesting principle to the 
rest. So it happens in the combination of the sensa- 
tions of colour, with those of extension and figure : 
the visible idea stands foremost ; and calls up the rest. 
It calls them up also with such intensity, that both 
the remarkable cases of association are exemplified. 
Whenever we have the sensation of colour, we can- 
not avoid having the ideas of distance, of extension, 
and figure, along with it ; nor can we avoid having 
them in such intimate union with the ocular sensa- 
tion, that they appear to be that sensation itself. 



CHAP. XI.] BELIEF. 847 



is the whole of what is ever supposed to be in 
the case. Of no phenomenon of the human mind is 
"the developement more complete or more important. 
Our belief that we see the shape, and size, and dis- 
tance of the object we look at, is as perfect as belief 
in any instance can be. But this belief is nothing 
more than a case of very close association. 

The case of belief by association, any one may illus- 
trate further, for himself, by recollecting some of the 
commonest cases of optical deception. If we look at 
a landscape with the naked eye, we believe the several 
objects before us, the men, the animals, the trees, the 
houses, the hills, to be at certain distances. If we 
next look at them through a telescope, they seem as 
if they were brought near ; we have the distinct belief 
of their proximity, and though a belief immediately cor- 
rected by accompanying reflection, it is not only belief, 
but a belief that we can by no means shake off. We 
can, after this, invert the telescope, and then we can- 
not help believing, that the nearest objects are re- 
moved to a distance. Now what is it that the telescope 
performs in these two instances? It modifies in a 
certain manner the rays of light to the eye. The rays, 
proceeding from the objects, are so distributed on the 
eye, as they would be if the distance of the objects 
was less, or greater. Instantly we have the belief 
that it is less or greater ; because, the sensation of the 
6ye, by means of the glass, is made to resemble that 
which it receives, when objects are seen at a smaller 
or greater distance ; and each of the sensations calls 
up that idea of distance which is habitually associated 
with it. 

We have thus far proceeded, with some certainty. 



348 BELIEF. [chap. XI. 

in detecting the component parts of that which we 
call our " belief in the existence of external objects." 
We have taken account of the sensation from which 
is derived the visible idea, of the sensations from 
which are derived the ideas of position, extension, and 
figure ; and we have explained the intimate combina- 
tion of those two sets of ideas by association. But 
these, though the leading sensations and ideas, are 
not the only ones. There are, besides, the sensations 
from which we derive the idea of resistance, in all its 
modifications, from that of air, to that of adamant. 
There are also sensations which are not common to 
all objects, but peculiar to some ; as smell, peculiar to 
odorous bodies ; taste, to sapid ; and sound, to sonorons 
ones. 

Now, though the most remarkable case of the asso- 
ciations among those feelings, is that between colour, 
and extension and figure, they are all blended by 
association into one idea ; which, though in reality a 
cluster of ideas, affects us in the same manner as if it 
were a single idea ; an idea, the parts of which we 
detect by an analysis, which it requires some training 
to be able to make. 

With the colour of the rose, the size and figure of 
the rose, — which are the predominant ideas, — ^I asso- 
ciate the idea of that modification of hardness and 
softness, which belongs to the rose ; its degree of re- 
sistance, in short ; also its smell, and its taste. These 
associations have been formed, as other associations 
are, by repetition. I have had so uniformly the sight, 
along with the handling, these, along with the smell, 
and the taste — of the rose, that they are always caJled 
up together, and in the closest combination. 



CHAP. XI.] BELIEF. 349 

Now then let us ask, what we mean, when we 
affirm, that the rose exists. In this meaning are im- 
doabtedlj included the above sensations, in a certain 
order. I see the rose on the garden wall, and I affirm 
that it exists : that is, along with my present sensa- 
tion, the sight of the rose, I have the ideas of a certain 
order of other sensations. These are, first, the idea of 
distance, that is, the idea of the feelings involved in 
the act of going to the rose : after this, the idea of the 
feelings in handling it; then in smelling, then in 
tasting it ; all springing up by association with the 
sight of the rose. It is said, we believe we should 
have these sensations. That is, we have the idea 
of these sensations inseparably united one with the 
other, and inseparably united with the idea of our- 
selves as having them. That this alone constitutes 
belief, in the remarkable case of the association 
of extension and figure with the sensations of sight, 
has already been seen ; that this alone constitutes 
it, in many other remarkable cases, will be seen as 
we proceed; and in no case can it be shewn, that 
any thing more is included in it. 

In my beUef, then, of the existence of an object, 
there is included the belief, that, in such and such 
circumstances, I should have such and such sensations. 
Is there any thing more ? It will be answered im- 
mediately, yes : for that, along with belief in my 
sensations as the effecty there is belief of something as 
the cause ; and that to the cause^ not to the effect^ the 
name object is appropriated. 

This is a case of Belief, which deserves the greatest 
possible attention. It is acknowledged, on all hands, 
that we know nothing of objects ; but the sensations 



350 BELIEF. [chap. XI. 

we have from them. There is a cause, however, of 
those sensations, and to that we give the name object : 
or, rather, there is a cluster of causes, corresponding 
with the cluster of sensations. Thus, when I see, and 
handle, and smell, and taste the rose, there is a cause 
of the sensation red, a cause of the sensation soft, a 
cause of the sensation round, a caus6 of the smell, and 
a cause of the taste ; and all these causes are united 
in the rose. But what is the rose, beside the colour, 
the form, and so on ? Not knowing what it is, but 
supposing it to be something, we invent a name 
to stand for it. We call it a subatratmn. This 
substratum, when closely examined, is not dis- 
tinguishable from Cause. It is the cause of the 
qualities ; that is, the cause of the causes of our sen- 
sations. The association, then, is this. To each of 
the sensations we have from a particular object, we 
annex in our imagination, a cause; and to these 
several causes we annex a cause, common to all, and 
mark it with the name substratum. 

This curious case of association we now proceed to 
develop. The word cause, means the antecedent of a 
consequent, where the connection is constant. This 
has been established on such perfect evidence, that it 
is a received principle of philosophy. More of the 
evidence of this important principle will appear as we 
go on. Here we shall take the proposition for 
granted. 

Not only are we, during the whole period of our lives, 
witnesses of an incessant train of events ; that is, of 
antecedents and consequents, between which, for the 
greater part, the order is constant ; but these constant 
conjunctions are, of all things in the world, what we are 



CHAP. XI.] BELIEF. 851 

the most deeply interested in observing ; for, on the 
knowledge of them, all our power of obtaining good 
and avoiding evil depends. From this, it necessarily 
follows, that between none of our ideas is the associa- 
tion more intimate and intense, than between ante- 
cedent and consequent, in the order of events. When- 
ever we perceive an event, the mind instantly flies to 
its antecedent. I hear words in the street; event: 
some one, of course, is making them ; antecedent. My 
house is broken, and my goods are gone ; event : a 
thief has taken them ; antecedent. This is that re- 
markable case of association, in which the combina- 
tion is inseparable ; a case of so much importance in 
explaining some of the more mysterious phenomena 
of thought. Other instances of this remarkable phe- 
nomenon, to which we have already had occasion to 
advert, are, the sight of an object, and the ideas of its 
distance, its extension, and figure ; the idea of colour, 
and the idea of extension ; the idea of an object, and 
the idea of position and unity ; the idea of one of my 
sensations, and the idea of myself. In no instance is 
this inseparable association more perfect, or its con- 
sequences more important, than in that between an 
event, and its antecedent. We cannot think of the 
one without thinking of the other. The two ideas 
are forced upon us at the same time ; and by no effort 
of ours can they be disjoined. So necessarily, from 
the first moment of experience, are we employed in 
observing the constant conjunctions of events ; and so 
deeply are we interested, in looking out for, and 
knowing the constant antecedent of every event, that 
the association becomes part of our being. The per- 
ception, or the idea, of an event, instantly brings up 



352 BELIEF. [chap. XI. 

the idea of its constant antecedent ; definite and clear, 
if the antecedent is known ; and indefinite and 
obscure, if it is unknown. Still, the idea of an event, 
of a change, without the idea of its cause, is impos- 
sible. That a cause means, and can mean nothing to 
the human mind, but constant antecedent, is no longer 
a point in dispute." 

Of this remarkable case of association, that which 
we call " Our Belief in External Objects *' is one of 
the most remarkable instances. Of the sensations, of 
sight, of handling, of smell, of taste, which I have from 
a rose, each is an event ; with each of those events, I 
associate the idea of a constant antecedent, a cause ; 
that cause unknown, but furnished with a name, bj 
which it may be spoken of, namely, quality ; the 
quality of red, the cause of the sensation red ; the 
qualities of consistence, extension and figure, the 
causes of the sensations of handling; the qualities 
of smell and taste, the causes of the sensations of 
smell and taste. Such is one part of the process of 
association in this case. Another is that by which 
the ideas of those sensations are so intimately united, 
as to appear not several ideas, but one idea, the idea of 
a rose. We have now two steps of association ; that 

^ Here again the author takes too sanguine a view of the 
amount of agreemeut hitherto attained among metaphysical 
philosophers. *' That a cause means, and can mean, nothing 
to the human mind but constant antecedent" is so far from 
being ** no longer a point in dispute" that it is denied with vehe- 
mence by a large numerical majority of philosophers ; and its 
denial is perhaps the principal badge of one of the two schools 
which at this, as at most other times, bisect the philosophical 
world — the intuitional school and the experiential. — Ed. 




CHAP. XI.] BELIEF. 353 

of the several * sensations into one idea ; that of the 

several sensations each with a separate cause. But we 

do not stop here ; for, as in a train of events, consisting 

of several links. A, B, C, D, and so on, though C is 

fihe antecedent or cause of D, it is itself the conse- 

<jaent or effect of B ; and in all cases, when we have 

Ibond the cause of any particular event, we have still 

'to find out what was the cause of that cause. In this 

manner, when our habit of association has carried us 

from our sensations to the causes of them, the same 

habit carries us still farther. 

As each of our sensations must have a cause, to 
which, as unknown, we give the name quality ; so 
each of those qualities must have a cause And as 
the ideas of a number of sensations, concomitant in a 
certain way, are combined into a single idea ; as that 
of rose,- that of apple ; the unity, which is thus given 
to the effects, is of course transferred to the supposed 
causes, called qualities : they are referred to a common 
cause. To this supposed cause of supposed causes, 
we give a name; and that name is the word Sub- 
stratum. 

It is obvious, that there is no reason for stopping 
at this Substratum ; for, as the sensation suggested the 
quality, the quality the substratum, the substratum as 
properly leads to another antecedent, another sub- 
stratum, and so on, from substratum to substratum, 
without end. These inseparable associations, how- 
ever, rarely go beyond a single step, hardly ever beyond 
two. The Barbarian, in accounting for the support of 
the earth, placed it on the back of a great elephant, 
and the great elephant on the back of a great 
tortoise; but neither himself, nor those whom he 

VOL. I. A A 



354 BELIEF. [chap. XI. 

instructed, were carried by their habits of association 
any farther.*" 

Such appear to be the elements included in our 
belief of the existence of objects acting on our senses. 
We have next to unfold the case of belief in the 
present existence of objects not acting on our senses. 

Of this Belief, there are two cases : 1, Belief in the 
existence of objects, which we have not perceived ; 2, 
Belief in the existence of objects, which we have per- 
ceived. 

The first of these, is a case of the Belief in testi- 
mony; which is to be explained hereafter. What 
we are to examine at the present moment, then, is, our 
Belief in the existence of objects, which, though not 

^^ It is a question worth considering, why that demand for 
a cause of everything, which has led to the invention of so 
many fabulous or fictitious causes, so generally stops short at 
the first step, without going on to imagine a cause of the 
cause. But this is quite in the ordinary course of human pro- 
ceedings. It is no more than we should expect, that these 
frivolous speculations should be subject to the same limitations 
as reasonable ones. Even in the region of positive facts — ^in 
the explaining of phenomena by real, not imaginary, causes — 
the first semblance of an explanation generally suffices to satisfy 
the curiosity which prompts the inquiry. The things men 
first care to inquire about are those which meet their senses, 
and among which they live ; of these they feel curious as to 
the origin, and look out for a cause, even if it be but an ab- 
straction. But the cause once found, or imagined, and the 
familiar fact no longer perplexing them with the feeling of an 
unsolved enigma, they do not, unless unusually possessed by 
the speculative spirit, occupy their minds with the unfamiliar 
antecedent sufficiently to be troubled respecting it with any of 
the corresponding perplexity. — Ed. 




CHAP, xl] belief. 355 

now present to our senses, have been so at a previous 
time. Thus, I believe in the present existence of St. 
PauVs, which I saw this morning. 

In tracing the elements of this Belief, it is obvious 
in the first place, that in so far as it is founded on 
my past sensations, memory is concerned in it. But 
Memory relates to past events. Belief in which, is to 
be considered under a following head. This part of 
the developeraent, therefore, we postpone. 

But, beside Memory, what other element is con- 
cerned in it ? There is evidently an anticipation of 
the future. In believing that St. Paul's exists, I 
believe, that whenever I am in the same situation, in 
which I had perception of it before, I shall have per- 
ception of it again. But this Belief in future events, 
is also a case, which remains to be considered under 
a subsequent head. This, therefore, is another part 
of the developement, which must be postponed. 

I not only believe, that I shall see St. Paul's, when 
I am again in St. Paul's Churchyard ; but I believe, 
I should see it if I were in St. Paul's Churchyard this 
instant. This, too, is also a case, of the anticipation 
of the future from the past, and will come to be 
considered under the subsequent head already re- 
ferred to. 

Besides these cases, the only one which remains to 
be considered, is, my Belief that, if any creature whose 
senses are analogous to my own, is now in St. Paul's 
Cliurchyard, it has the present sensation of that 
edifice. 

My belief in the sensations of other creatures, is 
wholly derived from my experience of my own sen- 
sations. The question is. How it is derived. That 

A A 2 






356 BELIEF. [CBAT. n. 

it iB an inference from similitade, will not be denied. 
Bat what is an inference from similitude ? 

I have no direct knowledge of any feelings but my 
own. How is it, then, that I proceed ? 

There are certain things which I consider as marks 
or sigus of sensations in other creatures. The Belief 
follows the signs, and with a force, not exceeded in 
any other instance. But the interpretation of signs 
is wholly a case of association, as the extraordinary 
phenomena of language ahundantly testify. "" And 
whenever the association, between the sign and the 

"" This is tme in by tar the greater nnmber of instaaces. 
Novertbcless, there are some of the signs of feeling that hare 
KD intrinsic efficacy, on very manifest gronnds. While the 
meaniDgB of the smile and the frown could have been reversed, 
if the asaooiation had been the other way, there is an obnoss 
suitability in the harsh stunning tones of the voice to signify 
anger and to inspire dread, and a like suitability in the gentle 
touM to convey aSecUon and kindly feeling. We might have 
onntraoted the opposing associations, had the facts been so 
arranged, just as in times of peace, we associate joy with 
deafeuing salvoa of artillery ; and as laud, sharp-pealing 
laughter serves in the expression of agreeable feeling. But 
thortf w a gain of effect when the signs employed are such aa 
til obinie in, by intriDsic efficacy, with the associated mean- 
i\\g». On this ooincideoce depend the refinements of elocu- 
tinu. oratory, and stage display. — B. 

['\'\w f<w't here brought to notice by Mr. Bain is, that cer- 
titiH of the natural expressions of emotion have a kind of 
HHAlogy ti> the emotions they express, which makes ao opening 
Atr nu iuHtinotive interpretatiou of them, independently of ex- 
yvrit>ni'<>. Uut if this be so (and there can be little doubt that 
<) th^ sti^estioD takes place by resemblance, and there- 
n<N vMII by awooiation. — Ed."} 



CRAP. XI.] BELIEF. 367 

thing signified^ is suflBciently strong to become inse- 
parable, it is belief. Thus, rude and ignorant people, 
to whom the existence of but one language is known, 
believe the name by which they have always called an 
object to belong to it naturally, as much as its shape, 
its colour, or its smeU.* Thus the perceptions of 
sight, mere signs of distance, magnitude, and figure, 
are followed by belief of the sight of them. And it 
is remarked, with philosophical accuracy, by Condillac, 
that if our constitution had been such, as to give us, 
instead of a different modification of sight, a different 
modification of smell, with each variety of distance, 
extension, and figure, we should have smelt distance, 
extension and figure, in the same manner as, by the 
actual conformation of our organs, we see them. Nor 
can we doubt the truth of the ingenious observation 
of Diderot, that if we had seen, and heard, and tasted, 
and smelt, at the ends of our fingers, in the same 
manner as we feel, we should have believed our mind 
to be in the fingers, as we now believe it to be in the 
head. 

The process of our Belief in this case, then, is 
evidently, as foUows. Our sensations are inseparably 
associated with the idea of our bodies. A man cannot 
think of his body without thinking of it as sensitive. 
As he cannot think of his own body without thinking 
of it as sensitive, so he cannot think of another man's 



* " It has been very justly remarked, that if all men had 
uniformly spoken the same language, in every part of the 
world, it would be diflBcult for us not to think [believe] that 
there is a natural connexion of our ideas, and the words which 
we use to denote them." — Brown, Lectwres, ii. p. 80. 2d ed. 



358 BELIEF. [chap. : 

body, which is like it, without thinking of it as se 
sitive. It is evident that the association of sensiti^ 
ness, is more close with certain parts of the compl 
idea, our bodies, than with other parts ; because t 
association equally follows the idea of horse, of dc 
of fowl, and even of fish, and insect : and it will 
found, I think, that there is nothing with which it 
so peculiarly united as the idea of spontaneous motio 
What is the reason we do not believe there is ai 
sensation in the most curiously-organized vegetabl 
while we uniformly believe there is in the polypi 
and the microscopic insect ? Nothing whatsoever ci 
be discovered, but a strong association which exit 
in the one case, and is wanting in the other. Ai 
this is one of the most decisive of all experiments 
prove the real nature of Belief. 

As, then, our belief in the sensations of other en 
tures is derived wholly from the inseparable associati* 
between our own sensations and the idea of our o^ 
bodies, it is apparent that the case in which I belie 
other creatures to be immediately percipient of objec 
of which I believe that I myself should be percipie 
if I were so situated as they are, resolves itself ul 
mately into this particular case of my belief in certa 
conditional sensations of my own. This, again, as ^ 
have seen above, resolves itself into that other ii 
portant law of Belief, which we are shortly to co 
sider, the anticipation of the fiiture from the past. 

2. It comes next in order, that we notice our Bel 
in past existences ; that is, our present belief, th 
something had a present existence at a previous tim( 

Much of the developement of this case is includ 

^e expositions already afforded. Our prese 




cnxp. n.] BELIEF. 359 

belief, means, for one thing, a present idea ; our pre- 
sent belief of an existence, the idea of something 
existing. Of what associations the idea of something 
existing consists, we have just ascertained. Our pre- 
sent belief of a past existence, then, consists of our 
present idea of something existing, and the assign- 
xnent of it to a previous time. 

There are two cases of this assignment ; one, in 
Mrhich the thing in question had been the object of 
our senses; another, in which it had not been the 
object of our senses. 

When the thing, the existence of which we assign 
to a previous time, had been the object of our senses, 
and when the time to which we assign it is the time 
when it had so been the object of our senses, the whole 
is Memory. In this case, Memory, and Belief, are 
but two names for the same thing. Memory is, in fact, 
a case of Belief Belief is a general word. Memory is 
one of the species included under it. Memory is the 
belief of a past existence, as Sensation is the belief of a 
present existence. When I say, that I remember the 
burning of Drury-Lane Theatre; the remeniberinff 
the event, and believing the event, are not distinguish- 
able feelings, they are one and the same feeling, 
which we have two ways of naming. The associa- 
tions included in Memory we have already endeavoured 
to trace. It is a case of that indissoluble connexion 
of ideas which we have found in the preceding article 
to constitute belief in present existences. When I 
remember the burning of Drury-Lane Theatre, what 
happens? We can mark the following parts of the 
process. First, the idea of that event is called up by 
association ; in other words, the copies of the sensa- 



360 BELIEF. [chap. XI. 

tions I then had, closely combined by association. 
Next, the idea of the sensations calls up the idea of 
myself as sentient ; and that, so instantly and forcibly, 
that it is altogether out of my power to separate 
them. But when the idea of a sensation forces upon 
me, whether I will or no, the idea of myself as that 
of which it was the sensation, I remember the sensa- 
tion. It is in this process that memory consists ; and 
the memory is the Belief. No obscurity rests on any 
part of this process, except the idea of self^ which is 
reserved for future analysis. The fact, in the mean 
time, is indisputable ; that, when the idea of a sensa- 
tion, which I have formerly had, is revived in me by 
association, if it calls up in close association the idea 
of myself, there is memory ; if it does not call up that 
idea, there is not memory ; if it calls up the idea of 
myself, it calls up the idea of that train of states of 
consciousness which constitutes the thread of my ex- 
istence ; if it does not call up the idea of myself, it 
does not call up the idea of that train, but some other 
idea. A sensation remembered, then, is a sensation 
placed, by association, as the consequent of one feeling 
and the antecedent of another, in that train of 
feelings which constitutes the existence of a con- 
scious being. All this will be more evident, when 
what is included in the notion of Personal Identity 
is fuUy evolved. 

The case of Belief in past existences which have not 
been the object of our senses, resolves itself into the 
belief, either of testimony, or of the uniformity of 
the laws of nature ; both of which will, after a few 
intervening expositions, be fully explained. 

3. The process which we denote by the words. 




CHAP. II.] BELIEF. 861 

** Belief in fixture events," deserves, on account of its 
importance, to be very carefully considered. That it 
is a complex process, will very speedily appear. Our 
endeavour shall be to resolve it into its elements ; in 
doing which, we shall see whether it consists wholly 
of the elements with which we have now become 
familiar, or whether it is necessary to admit the ex- 
istence of something else. 

I believe that, to-morrow, the light of day will be 
spread over England ; that the tide will ebb and flow 
at London-bridge ; that men, and houses, and waggons, 
and carriages, will be seen in the streets of this me- 
tropolis ; that ships will sail, and coaches arrive ; that 
shops will be opened for their customers, manufac- 
tories for their workmen; and that the Exchange will, 
at a certain hour, be crowded with merchants. Now, 
in aU this, what is involved ? 

First of all, in the Belief of any future event, there 
is, of course, involved the idea of the event. It will 
be immediately understood, from what has been 
already adduced, that there can be no Belief in any 
existence, without an idea of that existence. If I 
believe in the light of day to-morrow, I must have an 
idea of it ; if I believe in the flux and reflux of 'the 
water at London-bridge, I must have ideas of those 
several objects ; and so of all other things. 

In the next place ; as it has already been shewn, 
that we cannot call up any idea by willing it ; and 
that none of our ideas comes into existence but by 
association ; the idea which forms the fundamental 
part of Belief, is produced by association. Ideas 
and association, then, are necessary parts of 
belief. 



362 BELIEF. [chap. XI. 

But there can be no idea of the future ; because, 
strictly speaking, the future is a nonentity. Of 
nothing there can be no idea. It is true we can have 
an idea of that which never existed, and which we do 
not suppose ever will exist, as of a centaur ; but this 
is a composition of the ideas of things which have 
existed. We can conceive a sea of milk, because we 
have seen a sea, and milk ; a mountain of gold, be- 
cause we have seen a mountain, and gold. In the 
same manner we proceed with what we call the future. 
The ideas which I have recently enumerated as parts 
of my belief of to-morrow ; the light of day, the 
throng in the streets, the motion of the tide at 
London-bridge, are all ideas of the past. The general 
fact, indeed, is not a matter of dispute. Our idea of 
the future, and our idea of the past, is the same ; with 
this difference, that it is accompanied with retrospec- 
tion in the one case, anticipation in the other. What 
retrospection is, we have already examined. It is 
Memory. Wliat Anticipation is, we are now to 
inquire; and to that end it is necessary to recall, 
distinctly, some important facts which we have 
already established. 

The fundamental law of association is, that when 
two things have been frequently found together, we 
never perceive or think of the one without thinking 
of the other. If the visible idea of a rose occurs to 
me, the idea of its smeU occurs along with it ; if the 
idea of the sound of a drum occurs to me, the visible 
idea of that instrument occurs along with it. 

Of these habitual conjunctions, there is none with 
which we are more incessantly occupied, from the 




CHAP. XI.] BELIEF. 863 

first moment of our existence to the last, and in which 
we are more deeply interested, than that of ante- 
cedent and consequent. Of course there is none be- 
tween the ideas of which the association is more 
intimate and intense. 

In fact, our whole lives are but a series of changes; 
that is, of antecedents and consequents. The con- 
junction, therefore, is incessant ; and, of course, the 
union of the ideas perfectly inseparable. We can no 
more have the idea of an event without having the 
ideas of its antecedent and its consequents, than we 
can have the idea and not have it at the same time. 
It is utterly impossible for me to have the visible 
idea of a rose, without the idea of its having grown 
from the ground, which is its antecedent ; it is utterly 
impossible for me to have the idea of it without the 
ideas of its consistence, its smell, its gravity, and so 
on, which are its consequents. 

Of the numerous antecedents and consequents, 
forming the matter of our experience, some are con- 
stant, some are not. Of course the strength of the 
association follows the frequency. The crow is seen 
flying as frequently from east to west, as from west to 
east ; from north to south, as from south to north ; 
there is, therefore, no association between the flight 
of the crow and any particular direction. Not so 
with the motion of a stone let go in the air : that 
takes one direction constantly. The order of antece- 
dent and consequent is here invariable. The asso- 
ciation of the ideas, therefore, is fixed and inseparable. 
I can no more have the idea of a stone let go in the 
air, and not have the idea of its dropping to the 



364 BELIEF. [chap. XI. 

ground, than I can have the idea of the Rtone, and 
not have it, at the same time.*" 

Where the sequence of two events is merely casual, 
it passes speedily away from the mind ; because it is 
not associated with the idea of any thing in which we 
are interested. The things in which we are in- 
terested, are the immediate antecedents of our plea- 
sures and pains, and the ideas of them are all in- 
separably associated with constant conjunctions. The 
association of the ideas of a constant antecedent and 
consequent, therefore, has both causes of strength, 
the interesting nature of the ideas, and the frequency 
of conjunction, both at their greatest height. It 
follows, that it should be the most potent and inse- 
parable of all the combinations in the mind of man. 

As we are thus incessantly, and thus intensely, occu- 
pied with cases of constant conjunction, while cases 
of casual conjunction pass slightly over the mind, and 

^^ The theory maintained so powerfully and with such high 
intellectual resources by the author, that Belief is but an in- 
separable assooiation, will be examined at length in a note at 
the end of the chapter. Meanwhile let it be remarked, that 
the case of supposed inseparable association given in this 
passage, requires to be qualified in the statement. We cannot, 
indeed, think of a stone let go in the air, without having the 
idea of its falling ; but this association is not so strictly in- 
separable as to disable us from having the contrary idea. 
There are analogies in our experience which enable us without 
difficulty to form the imagination of a stone suspended in the 
air. The case appears to be one in which we can conceive both 
opposites, falling and not falling; the incompatible images 
not, of course, combining, but alternating in the mind. 
Which of the two carries belief with it, depends on what is 
termed Evidence. — Ed, 




CHAP. XI.] BELIEF. 865 

quickly vanish from our conscioasness, every event 
calls up the idea of a constant antecedent. The asso- 
ciation is so strong, that the combination is necessary 
and irresistible. It often enough, indeed, happens, 
that we do not know the constant antecedent of an 
event. But never does it fail to call up the idea of 
such an antecedent ; and so inseparably, that we can 
as little have and not have the idea of an event, as 
we can have the idea of it, and not have the idea of 
an inseparable antecedent along with it. — Ignorant, 
sometimes, of the constant antecedents of such and 
such events, we find them out by subsequent inquiry. 
Those cases of successful investigation still further 
strengthen the association. AU that we call good, 
and all that we call evil, depend so entirely upon those 
constant conjunctions, that we are necessarily under 
the strongest stimulus to find them out, and to trace 
them with greater and greater accuracy. Thus we 
very often find a constancy of sequence, in which we 
acquiesce for a while ; but after a time discover, that 
though constant, indeed, it is not immediate ; for, that 
between the event and supposed antecedent, several 
antecedents intervene. At first we regard the ignition 
of the gunpowder, as the immediate antecedent of the 
motion of the ball. Better instructed, we find that a 
curious process intervenes. The constancy of the 
sequei^ce is always more certain, the more nearly im- 
mediate the antecedent is. And so frequent is our 
detection of antecedents, more immediate than those 
which we have just observed, that an association is 
formed between the idea of every antecedent, and 
that of another antecedent, as yet unknown, inter- 
mediate between it and the consequent which we 



366 BELIEF. [chap. Zl. 

know. In no sequence do we ever feel satisfied that 
we have discovered all. We see a spark ignite the 
gunpowder, we see one billiard-ball impel another. 
Though we consider these as constant antecedents and 
consequents, the idea of something intermediate is 
irresistibly conjoined. To this, though wholly un- 
known, we annex a name, that we may be able to 
speak of it. The name we have invented for this 
purpose is power. Thus, we conceive that it is not 
the spark which ignites the gunpowder, but the power 
of the spark ; it is not one billiard-ball that moves 
the other, but the power of the ball. The Power, in 
this case, is a supposed consequent of the moving ball, 
and antecedent of the moved ; and so in all other cases. 

But the idea of an event does not call up the idea 
of its constant antecedent in closer and more intense 
association, than it calls up that of its consequent or 
consequents. I cannot have the idea of water, with- 
out the idea of its mobility, its weight, and other 
obvious properties. I cannot have the idea of rhu- 
barb, without the idea of its nauseous taste, and other 
familiar properties. I cannot have the idea of the 
stroke of a sword upon the head of a man, without 
the idea of a wound inflicted on his head. 1 cannot 
have the idea of my falling from a ship into the 
middle of the sea, without the idea of my being 
drowned. I cannot have the idea of my falling from 
the top of a high tower, without having the idea of 
my being killed by the fall. If I have the first idea, 
the second forces itself upon me. The union has in 
it all that I mark by the word necessity ; a sequence, 
constant, immediate, and inevitable. 

This great law of our nature shews to us imme- 




CHAP. XI.] BELIEF. 367 

diately in what manner our idea of the future is 
generated. Night has regularly been followed by 
morning. The idea of night is followed by that of 
morning ; the idea of morning is followed by that 
of the events of the morning, the gradual increase of 
light, the occupations of men, the movements of ani- 
mals and objects, and all their several successions from 
morning till night. This is the idea of to-morrow ; 
to this succeeds another to-morrow ; and an indefinite 
number of these to-morrows makes up the complex 
idea of futurity. 

But I am told, that we have not only the idea of 
to-morrow, but the belief of to-morrow ; and I am 
asked what that belief is. I answer, that you have 
not only the idea of to-morrow, but have it inseparably. 
It will also appear, that wherever the name belief is 
applied, there is a case of the indissoluble association 
of ideas. It will further appear, that, in instances 
without number, the name belief is applied to a mere 
case of indissoluble association ; and no instance can 
be adduced in which any thing besides an indissoluble 
association can be shewn in belief.*"* It would seem 



^^ The case that is most thorougbly opposed to the theory 
of indissoluble association is our belief in the Uniformity of 
Nature. Our overweening tendency to auticipate the future 
from the past is shown prior to all association ; the frrst effect 
of experience is to abridge and modify a strong primitive 
urgency. There is, no doubt, a certain stage when associa- 
tion co-operates to justify the believing state. After our head- 
long instinct has, by a series of reverses, been humbled and 
toned down, and after we have discovered that the uniformity^ 
at first imposed by the mind upon everything, applies to some 
things and not to others, we are confirmed by our experience 



368 BELIEF. [chap. XI. 

to follow from this, with abundant evidence, that the 
whole of my notion of to-morrow, belief included, is 
nothing but a case of the inevitable sequence of 
ideas. 

This, however, is a part of our constitution, of so 
much importHUce, that it must be scrutinized with 
more than ordinary minuteness. 

Our first assertion was, that in every instance of 
belief, there is indissoluble association of the ideas. 
We shall confine our examples, for the present, to that 
case of belief which is more immediately under our 
examination ; belief in the future. I believe, that if 
I put my finger in the flame of the candle, I shall 
feel the pain of burning. I believe, that if a stone is 
dropped in the air, it will fall to the ground. It is 
evident that in these cases, the belief consists in 
uniting two events, the antecedent, and the conse- 
quent. There are in it, therefore, two ideas, that of 
the antecedent, and that of the consequent, and the 
union of those ideas. The previous illustrations 
have abundantly shewn us, in what manner the two 
ideas are united by association, and indUsolubljf 
united. T/ieae ingredients in the belief are all 
indisputable. That there is any other cannot be 
shewn. 

in the cases where the UDiformity prevails ; and the intellectual 
growth of association counts for a small part of the believing 
impetus. Still, the efficacy of experience is perhaps negative 
rather than positive ; it saves, in certain cases, the primitive 
force of anticipation from the attacks made upon it in the 
other cases where it is contradicted by the facts. It does not 
make belief, it conserves a pre-existing belief. (See Note at 
the end of the chapter.) — B, 




CHAP. XI.] BELIEF. 369 

Our second assertion was, that cases of indissoluble 
association, admitted by all men to be this, and no- 
thing more, are acknowledged as Belief. The facts 
(which any one may call to recollection), in proof of 
this assertion, deserve the greatest attention; they 
shew the mode of investigating some of the most 
latent combinations of the human mind. 

No fact is more instructive, in this respect, than 

one, which more than once we have had occasion to 

make use of ; the association of the ideas of distance, 

extension, and figure, with the sensations of sight. I 

open my eyes ; I see the tables, and chairs, the floor, the 

door, the walls of my room, and the books ranged upon 

the walls ; some of these things at one distance, some 

at another; some of one shape and size, some of another. 

My belief is, that I see all those particulars. Yet the 

fact is, that I see nothing but certain modifications of 

light ;^ and that all my belief of seeing the distance, 

the size, and figure of those several objects, is nothing 

but the close and inseparable association of the ideas 

of other senses. There is no room for even a surmise 

that there is any thing in this case but the immediate 

blending of the ideas of one sense with the sensations 

of another, derived from the constant concomitance of 

the sensations themselves. 

The case of hearing is perfectly analogous, though 



^^ More guardedly — * I am aflfected by certain modifications 
of light.' The word ' see' carries with it too much meaning 
for the case put. There is also the omission, previously re- 
marked on, to take into account the mental elements due to 
the movements of the eye — visible forms^ magnitudes, and 
movements. — B, 

VOL. I. B B 



S70 BBLIBlf. [chap. XI. 

not so exact. I am in the dark ; I hear the voice of 
one man, and say he is behind me ; of another, and 
say he is before me ; of another, he is on my right 
hand ; another, on my left. I hear the sound of a 
carriage, and say, it is at one distance ; the sound of a 
trumpet, and say, it is at another. In these cases I 
believe, not only that I hear a sound, but the sound 
of a man's voice, the sound of a carriage, the sound of 
a trumpet. Yet no one imagines that my belief is 
any thing, in these cases, but the close association of 
the sounds with the ideas of the objects. I believe, 
not only that I hear the sound of a man's voice, but 
that I hear it behind me, or before me ; on my right 
hand, or on my left ; at this distance, or at that. The 
indisputable fact, in the mean time, is, that I hear 
only a modification of sound, and that the position 
and distance, which I believe I hear, are nothing but 
ideas of other senses, closely associated with those 
modifications of sound. That this state of conscious- 
ness, the result ofan immediate irresistible association, 
is identical with the state which we name belief, is 
proved by a very remarkable experiment, the decep« 
tion produced by ventriloquism. A man acquires the 
art of forming that peculiar modification of sound, 
which would come from this or that position, diflerent 
from the position he is in ; in other words, the sound 
which is associated, not with the idea of the position 
he is in, but that of another position. The sound is 
heard ; the association takes place ; we cannot help 
believing that the sound proceeds from a certain place, 
though we know, that is, immediately recognize, that 
it proceeds ifrom another. 

We must not be afraid of tediousness, while we 




CHAP. XI.] BSLIEF. 371 

adduce instances in superabundance, to prove that in- 
dissoluble association (in one remarkable class of its 
cases, which, on account of their vast importance, it 
is found expedient to distinguish by a particular 
name) is that state of consciousness, to which we have 
given the name of bejjef. 

We are all of us familiar with that particular 
feeling, which is produced, when we have turned our* 
selves round with velocity several times. We believs 
that the world is turning round. 

The sound of bells, opposed by the wind, appears 
to be farther off. A person speaking through a trumpet 
appears to be nearer. Our experience is, that sounds 
decrease by distance. A sound is decreased by oppo- 
sition of the wind ; the idea of distance is associated ; 
and the association being inseparable, it is belief. A 
sound is increased by issuing from a trumpet, the 
idea of proximity is associated, and the association 
being indissoluble, it is belief 

In passing, on board of ship, another ship at sea, 
we believe that she has all the motion, we none: 
though we may be sailing rapidly before the wind, she 
making hardly any progress against it. 

When we have been making a journey in a stage 
coach, or a voyage in a ship, we believe, for some 
time after leaving the vehicle, that still we are feeling 
its motion ; more especially just as we are falling asleep. 
Nobody doubts, that these, and similar cases of 
belief, which are very numerous, are all to be resolved 
into pure association. What the associations are, we 
leave to be traced by the learner ; so many repetitions 
of the same process, though a useful exercise to him, 
would be very tedious here. 

BB 2 



872 BELIEF. [chap. XI. 

The Belief which takes place in Dreaming merits 
great attention in this part of our inquiry. No belief 
is stronger than that which we experience in dream- 
ing. Our belief of some of the frightful objects, 
which occur to us, is such, as to extort from us loud 
cries ; and to throw us into such tremors and bodily 
agitations, as the greatest real dangers would fail in 
producing. Not less intense is our belief in the 
pleasurable objects which occur to us in dreams ; nor 
are the agitations which they produce in our bodies 
much less surprising. Yet there is hardly any dif- 
ference of opinion about the real nature of the pheno- 
mena which occur in dreaming. That our dreams 
are mere currents of ideas, following one another by 
association ; not controlled, as in our waking hours, 
by sensations and will; is the substance of every 
theory of dreaming. The belief, therefore, which 
occurs in dreaming, is merely a case of association ; 
and hence it follows that nothing more is necessary to 
account for Belief. 

There is not a more decisive instance of the identity 
of Belief and Association, than the dread of ghosts, 
felt in the dark, by persons who possess, in its greatest 
strength, the habitual disbelief of their existence. 
That dread implies belief, and an uncontrollable beUef, 
we need not stay to prove. When the persons of 
whom we speak feel the dread of ghosts in the dark, 
the meaning is, that the idea of ghost is irresistibly 
called up by the sensation of darkness. There is here, 
indisputably, a case of indissoluble association ; nor 
can it be shewn that there is anything else. In the 
dark, when this strong association is produced, there 



% 



CHAP. ZI.] BELIEF. 873 

is the belief; not in the dark^ when the association is 
not produced, there is no belief.*" 

Pew men, except those who are accustomed to it, 
could walk on the ridge of a high house without 
falling down. Yet the same men could walk with 
perfect security, on similar footing, placed on the 
ground. What is the interpretation of this con- 
trariety ? Fear, we are told, is that which makes the 



^** The efficacy of association is not correctly explained in 
this instance. The influence of Terror on belief is unques- 
tionably great ; but the operation is more complicated than 
the description given of it in the texi Terror, in the first 
place, is b^ depressing passion, and as such impairs the tone of 
mind suited to the anticipation of coming good, or in the ob- 
verse, increases the tendency to anticipate coming evil. In 
the next place, it is the state most liable to a morbid fixed 
idea of evil, calamity, or danger. Thirdly, we have learned 
in the course of our lives to expect numerous possible calami- 
ties ; and are maintained in serenity only by seeing clearly a 
good way before us, so as to be sure that none of these pos- 
sible evils are approaching. Darkness extinguishes for the 
time our assuring fore-sight, and thus, by removing a coun* 
teractive, leaves us a prey to all the demons of mischief. 
Fourthly, the emotion of terror has its corresponding imagina- 
tions, into which are taken up with avidity all the suggestions 
of danger that have ever been made to us, including ghosts, 
hobgoblins, and other agents of calamity, when we have not 
natural vigour or express training to set them at nought 

The mere fact communicated to us, on a few occasions, that 
ghosts appear in the dark, and sometimes perform dreadful 
deeds, would not by force of association alone produce all that 
nn-nerving efiPect which children and weak or superstitious 
persons are liable to when, at night, exposed in a lonely place^ 
or passing a churchyard. — B. 



874 BELIEF. [chap. XL 

inexperienced person fall. But fear implies belief. 
There is nothing, however, in the case, but the intense 
association of the idea of his falling, with his sight of 
the position in which he is placed. In some persons 
this idea is so easily excited, that they cannot look 
down from even a very moderate height, without 
feeling giddy, as they call it ; that is, without having 
the apprehension; in other words, the belief, of 
falling.* 

• The same account, in substance, of some of the last of 
these phenomena, is given by Dr. Brown ; and it may aid the 
conceptions of the learner, to observe the different modes of 
exposition used by two different writers. 

" There can be no question, that he who travels in the same 
carriage, with the same external appearances of every kind by 
which a robber could be tempted or terrified, will be in equal 
danger of attack, whether he carry with him little of which he 
can be plundered, or such a booty as would impoverish him if 
it were lost. But there can be no question also, that though 
the probabilities of danger be the same, the fear of attack 
would, in these two cases, be very different ; that, in the one 
case, he would laugh at the ridiculous terror of any one who 
journeyed with him, and expressed much alarm at the approach 
of evening ; and that, in the other case, his own eye would 
watch suspiciously every horsemau who approached, and would 
feel a sort of relief when he observed him pass carelessly and 
quietly along at a considerable distance behind. 

" That the fear, as a mere emotion, should be more intense, 
according to the greatness of the object, might indeed be ex- i 
pected ; and if this were all, there would be nothing wonderful 
in the state of mind which I have now described. But there is 
not merely a greater intensity of fear, there is, in spite of re- 
flection, a greater belief of probability of attack. There is fear, 
in short, and fear to which we readily yield, when otherwise all 
fear would have seemed absurd. The reason of this it will 




CHAP. XI.] BELIEF. 875 

Prom these illustrations^ then, it does not appear 
that the anticipation of the future from the past, con- 
tains in it any thing peculiar. So far from standing 
by itself, a phenomenon sui generis ; it is included in 
one of the most general of the laws of the human 
mind. When Professor Stewart, therefore, and other 
writers, erect it into an object of wonder, a prodigy, a 
thing falling within no general rule ; and tell us they 
can refer it to nothing but instinct ; which is as much 

perhaps not be difficult for you to discover, if you remember 
the explanations formerly given by me, of some analogous 
phenomena. The loss of what is valuable in itself, is of course 
a great affliction. The slightest possibility of such an evil 
makes the evil itself occur to us, as an object of conception, 
though not at first, perhaps, as an object of what can be termed 
fear. Its very greatness, however, makes it, when thus con- 
ceived, dwell longer in the mind ; and it cannot dwell long, 
even as a mere conception, without exciting, by the common 
influence of suggestion, the different states of mind, associated 
with the conception of any great evil ; of which associate or 
resulting states, in such circumstances, fear is one of the most 
constant and prominent. The fear is thus readily excited as 
an associate feeling; and when tlie fear has once been excited, 
as a mere associate feeling, it continues to be still more readily 
BUfiTgested again, at every moment, by the objects that sug- 
gested it, and with the perception or conception of which it 
has recently co* existed. There is a remarkable analogy to this 
process, in the phenomena of giddiness, to which I have before 
more than once alluded. Whether the height on which we 
stand, be elevated only a few feet, or have beneath it a pre- 
cipitous abyss of a thousand fathoms, our footing, if all other 
circumstances be the same, is in itself equally sure. Yet 
though we look down, without any fear, on the gentle slope, in 
the one case, we shrink back in the other case with painful 
dismay. The lively conception of the evil which we should 



376 BELIEF. [chap. XI^ 

as to say, to nothing at all ; the term instinct, in all 
cases, being a name for nothing but our own igno- 
rance ; they only confess their failure in tracing the 
phenomena of the mind to the grand comprehensive 
law of association ; to the admission of which, in its 
full extent, they seem to have had a most unaccount- 
able, and a most unphilosophical aversion; — as if 
that simplicity, according to which one law is found 

suffer in a fall down the dreadful descent, which is very natu- 
rally suggested by the mere sight of the precipice, suggests and 
keeps before us the images of horror in such a fall, and thus 
indirectly the emotions of fear, that are the natural accompa- 
niments of such images, and that but for those images never 
would have arisen. We know well, on reflection, that it is a 
footing of the firmest rock, perhaps, on which we stand, but in 
spite of reflection, we feel, at least, at every other moment, as 
if this very rock itself were crumbling or sinking beneath us. 
In this case, as in the case of the traveller, the liveliness of the 
mere conception of evil that may be suffered, gives a sort of 
temporary probability tc that which would seem to have little 
likelihood in itself, and which derives thus from mere imagi- 
nation all the terror that is falsely embodied by the mind in 
things that exist around. 

" It is not, then, any simple ratio of probabilities which 
regulates the rise of our hopes and fears, but of these com- 
bined with the magnitude or insignificance of the objects." — 
Lectures on the Philosophy of the Human Mind. Lecture LXV., 
vol. iii., p. 34(^—347. 2d ed. 

Notwithstanding this, the ideas of Dr. Brown were so far 
from being clear and settled on the subject, that in the same 
work. Lecture VI., v. i., p. 115, he seems to affirm, that belief 
cannot be accounted for by association, but must be referred 
to instinct ; though it is necessary to use the word seems, 
for it is not absolutely certain that he does not by instinct 
mean association. — (Authors Note.) 



CHAP. XI.] BELIEF. 377 

included in a higher, and that in a yet higher, till we 
arrive at a few which seem to include the whole, were 
not as much to be expected in the world of mind, as 
in the world of matter.* 

We have now then explored those states of Con- 
sciousness which we call Belief in existences ; — ^Belief 
in present existences ; Belief in past existences ; and 
Belief in future existences. We have seen that, in 
the most simple cases. Belief consists in sensation 
alone, or ideas alone ; in the more complicated cases, 
in sensation, ideas, and association, combined; and 
in no case of belief has any other ingredient been 
found. 

In accounting for belief in present objects not 
acting on the senses, — it appeared, that a certain 
anticipation of the future entered, for so much, into 
this compound phenomenon ; the explanation of 
which part we were obliged to leave, till the anticipa- 

* Locke, at a period subsequent to the publication of his 
Essay, seems to have become more sensible of the importance 
of association. These are his words : — " I think I shall make 
some other additions to be put into your Latin translation, 
and particularly concerning the connexion of ideas, which has 
not, that 1 know, been hitherto considered, and has, I guess, 
a greater influence upon our minds, than is usually taken notice 
of." — Locke, Lett, to Molineux, April 26iA, 1695. — {Author's 
Note.) 

[When Locke wrote the letter here quoted, he had not yet 
written the chapter of his Essay which treats of the Association 
of Ideas. That chapter did not appear in the original edition, 
but was first inserted in the fourth, published in 1 690. The 
intention, therefore, which he expressed to Molineux, has 
received its fulfilment ; and the passage quoted further on in the 
text, is part of the ** addition " which he contemplated. — Ed.] 



878 BELIEF. [chap. XI. 

tion of the fiiture had undergone investigation. We 
have now seen that this part, as well as the rest, 
consists of association. The whole, therefore, of this 
case of belief, is now resolved into association. 

Mr. Locke, whose expositions of any of onr mental 
phenomena are almost always instructive, even when 
they stop short of being complete, has given the above 
account of belief precisely, in one remarkable and very 
extensive class of cases ; those in which the belief is 
unfounded ; which he denominates prejudices. 

" There is," he says,* " scarce any one that does not 
observe something that seems odd to him, and is in 
itself really extravagant in the opinions, reasonings, 
and actions, of other men. 

" This sort of unreasonableness is usually imputed 
to education and prejudice ; and for the most part 
truly enough ; though that reaches not the bottom of 
the disease, nor shews distinctly enough whence it 
rises, or wherein it lies. 

" Education is often rightly assigned for the cause ; 
and prejudice is a good general name for the thing 
itself; but yet, I think, he ought to look a little 
farther, who would trace this sort of madness to the 
root it springs from, and so explain it, as to shew 
whence this flaw has its original in very sober and 
rational minds, and wherein it consists." 

Mr. Locke affords the explanation, which he 
thought necessary to be given, and proceeds as 
follows. 

" Some of our ideas have a natural correspondence 
and connexion one with another. It is the oflRce, and 

* Essay on the Human UnderstandiDg, B. II., Gh. 33. 




CHAf. XI.] BELIEF. 379 

excellence, of our reason, to trace these ; and hold them 
together in that union and correspondence, which is 
founded in their peculiar beings. 

" Besides this, there is another connexion of ideas, 
wholly owing to chance or custom. Ideas, that in 
themselves are not at all of kin, come to be so united 
in some men's minds, that it is very hard to separate 
them. They always keep in company ; and the one 
no sooner at any time comes into the understanding, 
but its associate appears with it. And if they are 
more than two which are thus united, the whole gang, 
always inseparable, shew themselves together. 

" This wrong connexion, in our minds, of ideas in 
themselves loose and independent of one another, has 
such an influence, and is of so great force, to set us 
awry in our actions, as well moral as natural, passions, 
reasonings, and notions themselves ; that perhaps 
there is not any one thing that deserves more to be 
looked after. 

" The ideas of goblins and sprights have really no 
more to do with darkness than light. Yet let but a 
foolish maid inculcate these often in the mind of a 
child, and raise them there together, possibly he shall 
never be able to separate them again so long as he 
lives ; but darkness shall ever afterwards bring with 
it those frightful ideas, and they shall be so joined, 
that he can no more bear the one than the other. 

" A man receives a sensible injury from another ; 
thinks on the man and that action over and over ; and 
by ruminating on them strongly, or much in his 
mind, so cements those two ideas together, that he 
makes them almost one." 

" When this combination is settled, and while it 



880 BELIEF. [chap. XI. 

lasts, it is not in the power of reason to help us and 
relieve us from the effects of it. Ideas in our minds, 
when they are there, will operate according to their 
nature and circumstances. And, here, we see the 
cause why Time cures certain affections, which reason, 
though in the right, has not power over, nor is able, 
against them, to prevail with those who are apt to 
hearken to it in other cases." 

After adducing various examples, to illustrate 
the effect of these associations, in producing both 
vicious affections, and absurd opinions, he thus con- 
cludes : 

" That which thus captivates our reasons, and leads 
men blindfold from common sense, will, when ex- 
amined, be found to be what we are speaking of. 
Some independent ideas of no alliance to one another, 
are, by education, custom, and the constant din of 
their party, so coupled in their minds, that they 
always appear there together ; and they can no more 
separate them in their thoughts, than if there were 
but one idea ; and they operate as if they were so. 
This gives sense to jargon, demonstration to absurdity, 
and consistency to nonsense ; and is the foundation of 
the greatest, I had almost said, of all, the errors in 
the world." 

Such is Mr. Locke's account of wrong belief, or 
error. But wrong belief is belief, no less than right 
belief Wrong belief, according to Locke, arises 
from a bad association of ideas. Right belief, then, 
arises from a right association of ideas ; and this also 
was evidently Locke's opinion. It is, thus, associa- 
tion, in both cases ; only, in the case of wrong belief, 
the association is between ideas which ought not to 




CHAP. XI.] BELIEF. 881 

be associated ; in the case of right belief, it is between 
ideas which ought to be associated. In the case of 
right belief, the association is between ideas which, in 
the language of Locke, " have a natural correspon- 
dence and connexion one with another :" in the case of 
wrong belief, it is between ideas, which " in them- 
selves are not at all of kin, and are joined only by 
chance or custom." The ideas of the colour, shape, 
and smell of the rose ; the ideas of the spark falling 
on the gunpowder, and the explosion, — are the sorts 
of ideas which are understood, by Mr. Locke, as 
having "a natural correspondence and connexion." 
Ideas, such as those of darkness, with those of ghosts ; 
of the miseries suffered at school, with the reading of 
books, — are the kind which he describes as " not of 
kin, and united in the mind only by chance or cus- 
tom." This, put into accurate language, means, that 
when the ideas are connected in conformity with the 
connexions of things, the belief is right belief ; when 
the ideas are connected not in conformity with the 
connexions of things, the belief is wrong belief. The 
ideas, however, which are connected in conformity 
with the connexions among tilings, are connected by 
custom, as much as those which are connected not in 
conformity with those connexions. And the custom 
which unites them in conformity, is by far the most 
common of the two. It is, in fact, the regular, the 
ordinary, the standard custom, the other only consti- 
tutes the exceptions. 

II. We have divided Belief into, 1, Belief in 
events, real existences ; 2, Belief in testimony ; 3, 
Belief in the truth of propositions. 

Though this division, suggested by the ordinary 




382 BELIEF. [chap. XI. 

forms of language, appeared to me didactically con- - 
venient, it is not logically correct. The expression, 
"Belief in testimony," is elliptical. When com-- 
pleted, it becomes " Belief in events upon the evi- 
dence of testimony." There are then, in reality, only - 
two kinds of Belief; 1. Belief in events or real ex- 
istences ; and 2. Belief in the truth of Propositions. 
But Belief in events or real existences has two foun- 
dations ; 1. our own experience ; 2. the testimony ©r 
others. The first of these we have examined, the 
consideration of the second remains. 

When we begin, however, to look at the second of 
these foundations more closely, it soon appears, that 
it is not in reality distinct from the first. For what 
is testimony ? It is itself an event. When we be- 
lieve any thing, therefore, in consequence of testimony, 
we only believe one event in consequence of another. 
But this is the general account of our belief in events. 
It is the union of the ideas, of an antecedent, and a 
consequent, by a strong association. I believe it is 
one o'clock. Why? I have just heard the clock 
strike. Striking of the clocks antecedent ; one odock^ 
consequent; the second closely associated with the 
first. The striking of the clock is in fact a species of 
testimony. What does it testify? Not one event, 
but an infinite number of events, of which the term 
" one o'clock " is the name. At every instant in the 
course of the day, a number of events are taking 
place, some known to us, some unknown. The term 
one o'clock, is the name of those which take place at 
a particular point of the diurnal revolution. I believe 
in them all upon the testimony of the clock. Why ? 
experience; — every one would directly and 



CHAP. XI.] BBLIEF. 883 

truly reply. I have found the events constantly, or 
at least very regularly, conjoined. From junction of 
the events, junction of the ideas; in other words, 
belief. 

If proof, only, were wanted, this would suffice. 
For the purpose, however, of instruction, tuition, 
training, — a more minute developement of this im- 
portant case of belief seems too useful to be dispensed 
with, notwithstanding the tediousness which so many 
repetitions of the same process are too likely to produce. 

The watchman calling the hour, is a case of human 
testimony. That the account of our belief, in this 
case, is precisely the same as that in the case of the 
striking of the clock, it is wholly unnecessary to 
prove. But if our reliance on testimony in one case 
is pure experience, it may reasonably be inferred that 
it is so in all. 

The forms of expression, which we apply to this 
case of belief, are very misleading. We say, " we 
believe a man," or, '* we believe his testimony." " We 
ittach belief to the man," or, " to his testimony." In 
these expressions, the name belief is applied to the 
wrong event ; to the antecedent, instead of the conse- 
quent. What we mean to say is, that we believe the 
consequent, the thing testified, not the antecedent, 
the speaking of the words. The words the man uses, 
are, to us, sensations : belief that he uses the words, 
is not what is meant by belief in his testimony. The 
same form of expression is perfectly absurd, when 
applied to other cases. We never say that we believe 
the flame of the candle, or we attach belief to the 
flame of the candle, when we mean to state the belief, 
that a finger will be burnt if it is put into the flame ; 




384 BELIEF. [chap. XI. 

we never say we believe the spark, when we mean to 
express our belief of an explosion when the spark falls 
upon the gunpowder. 

The only question, then, is, in what manner the 
words of the testifier, the antecedent, come to be so 
united with the idea of the thing testified, as to con- 
stitute belief And surely there is no difficulty here, 
either in conceiving, or admitting the process. Words 
call up ideas by association, solely. There is no 
natural connexion between them. The manner in 
which words are applied to events, I know most in- 
timately by my own experience. I am constantly, 
and, from the first moment I could use them, have 
constantly been, employing words in exact conformity 
with events. Cases occur in which I do not, but 
they are few in comparison with those in which I do. 
It has been justly remarked, that the greatest of liars 
speak truth a thousand times for once that they utter 
falsehood. The connexion between the use of words, 
and the idea of conformable existence, is, of course, 
established into one of the strongest associations of 
the human mind. In other words, belief, in conse- 
quence of testimony, is, strictly, a case of association. 
That we interpret other men's actions by our own, no 
one doubts ; and that we do so entirely by association 
has already been proved. 

In accounting for belief in past existences where it 
is not memory, we have found that it is resolvable 
into belief in testimony, and in the uniformity of the 
laws of nature ; and the explanation of this we post- 
poned till the cases of belief in testimony, and in the 
uniformity of the laws of nature, should be expounded. 
A few words will now suffice to connect the explana- 



CHAP. ZI.] BELIEF. 385 

tions formerly given with those which have now been 
presented. 

The two cases, as we have seen, resolve themselves 
into one ; as belief in testimony is but a case of the 
anticipation of the future from the past ; and belief 
in the uniformity of the laws of nature is but another 
name for the same thing. 

I believe the event called the fire of London, upon 
testimony. I believe that the stranger who now passes 
before my window, had a father and mother, was once 
an infant, then a boy, next a youth, then a man, and 
that he has been nourished by food from his birth ; all 
this, from my belief in the uniformity of the laws of 
nature. 

After the preceding developments, it is surely un- 
necessary to be minute in the analysis of these in- 
stances. I have had experience, of a constant series 
of antecedents and consequents, in the life of man ; 
generation, birth, childhood, and so on ; as I have had 
of pain from putting my finger in the flame. A cor- 
responding association is formed. If the sight of a 
stranger calls up the idea of his origin and progress 
to manhood, the ordinary train of antecedents and 
consequents is called up ; nor is it possible for me to 
prevent it. The association is indissoluble, and is 
one of the cases classed under the name of Belief. 

The explanation is still more simple of my belief in 
the fire of London. The testimony in this case is of 
that sort which I have always experienced to be con- 
formable to the event. Between such testimony, and 
the idea of the event testified, I have, therefore, an 
indissoluble association. The testimony uniformly 
calls up the idea of the reality of the event, so closely, 

\0L. I. c c 




386 BELIEF. [chap. XI. 

that I cannot disjoin them. But the idea, irresistibly 
forced upon me, of a real event, is Belief.*" 

It is in this way that belief in History is to be ex- 
plained. It is because I cannot resist the evidence ; 
in other words, because the testimony calls up irre- 
sistibly the idea, that I believe in the battle of Mara- 
thon, in the existence of the Thirty Tyrants of Athens, 
in that of Socrates, Plato, and so on. 

III. We come now to what we set out with 
stating as the third case of Belief; but which, as there 
are in reality but two kinds of belief, is, strictly speak- 
ing, the second, — I mean Belief in the Truth of Pro- 
positions ; in other words, verbal truths. 

The process by which this Belief is generated, or 
rather the combination wherein it consists, has, by the 
writers on Logic, at least those in the Latin and 
modem languages, been called judgment. This, how- 
ever, is a restricted sense. In general, the word 
Judgment is used with more latitude. Sometimes it 
is nearly co-extensive with Belief, excluding hardly 

^^ The belief in Testimony is derived from the primary cre- 
dulity of the mind, in certain instances left intact under the 
wear and tear of adverse experience. Hardly any fact of the 
human mind is better attested than the primitive disposition 
to receive all testimony with unflinching credence. It never 
occurs to the child to question any statement made to it, until 
some positive force on the side of scepticism has been deve- 
loped. Gradually we find that certain testimonies are incon- 
sistent with fact ; we have, therefore, to go through a long 
education in discriminating the good testimonies from the bad. 
To the one class, we adhere with the primitive force of convic- 
tion that in the other class has been shaken and worn away by 
the shocks of repeated contradictions. — B, 



CHAP. XI.] BELIEF. 387 

any but the sudden and momentary cases. We 
should hardly say, A man judges there are ghosts, 
w^ho is afraid of them in the dark, but firmly believes 
his fear is unfounded ; or judges the surgeon to be 
noxious, whom he shudders at the sight of, from re- 
collection of the terrible operation which he under- 
went at his hands. In all cases, however, either of 
deliberate or well-^founded belief, we seem to apply 
the word judgment without impropriety. I judge 
that I see the light, that I hear the drum, that 
my friend speaks the truth, that water is flowing in 
the Ganges. 

All Belief of events, except that of our present 
sensations, and ideas, consists, as we have seen, in the 
combination of the ideas of an antecedent and a con- 
sequent. The antecedent is sometimes simple, some- 
times compound, being not one event, but various 
events taken together. These varieties in the ante- 
cedent constitute two distinguishable cases of belief. 
The last of them, that in which the antecedent is 
complex, is that in which the term judgment is most 
commonly applied. Again, there are two cases of 
complex antecedent, one, in which all the events are 
concordant ; another, in which they are not all con- 
cordant. It is to this last case that the term judg- 
ment is most peculiarly applied. Thus, it is not usual 
to say, that we judge we shall feel pain if we put a 
finger in the flame of the candle. But if we saw two 
armies ready to engage, one of which had considerable 
superiority, both in numbers and discipline, we should 
say we judge that it would gain the victory. This 
case, however, of belief, where the antecedent is com- 
plex, will receive additional illustration farther on. 

cc 2 




388 BELIEF. [CHAl 

We have now to consider the case of Belief in 
truth of propositions. 

PaoposmoN is a name for that form of w 
which makes a predication. Wliat Predication ii 
what parts it consists, what end it serves, and 
how many kinds it is divided, we have already 
plained. It remains to inquire what is meant by 
TRUTH of a Predication, and what state of con8ci< 
ness it is which is called the recognition or brlib 
that truth. 

Predication consists essentially in the applies 
of two marks to the same thing. Of this there 
two remarkable cases ; one. That in which two na 
of equal extent are applied to the same thi 
another. That in which two names, one of ] 
another of greater extent, are applied to the a 
thing. The questions we have to resolve are, H 
is meant by truth in these cases ; and. What is 
process, or complex state of consciousness, whid 
called assent to the proposition, or belief of it. 

And, first, as to the case of two names of ec 
extent, as when we say, " Man is a rational animi 
here the two names are, *' Man." and '* Rational anim 
exactly equivalent ; so that " man " is the nam< 
whatever "rational animal" is the name of; 
" rational animal " is the name of whatever " man 
the name of. This coincidence of the names i 
that is meant by the truth of the proposition ; and 
recognition of that coincidence is another name 
mv belief in its truth. 

Xow, how is it that I recognise two namei 
equivalent ? About this, there will not be any 
1 recognise the meaning of names 9(4ely 



CHAP. XI,] BELIKF. 389 

association. I recognise that such a name is of such 
a meaning, by association. I recognise that another 
name is of the same signification, by the same means. 
That I recognise the meaning of the last, whatever it 
is, by association, cannot be doubted, because it is by 
this that the meaning of every word is established. 
There is, however, another fact ; that 1 recognise the 
meaning in the second case, as the same with the 
meaning in the first case. What is the process of 
this recognition ? The word " Man " is the mark or 
name of a certain cluster of ideas. A certain cluster 
of ideas I know to be what it is, by having it. 
Having it, and knowing it, are two names for the 
same thing. Having it, and having it again, is know- 
ing it, and knowing it again ; and that is the recog- 
nition of its sameness. It is a single name for the 
two states of consciousness. This, then, is all that is 
meant by our belief in the truth of a proposition, the 
terms of which are convertible, or of equal extent. 

When of two names, applied to the same thing, 
one is of less, another of greater extent, the association 
is more complex; but in that is all the difference. 
Thus, when I believe the truth of the proposition, 
" Man is an animal," the meaning of the name 
" man" is called up by association, and the meaning 
of the name '' animal " is called up by association. 
Thus far is certain. But there is something further. 
I recognise, that " animal" is a name of whatever 
" man" is a name of, and also of more. In having 
the meaning of the name " man " called up by associa- 
tion, that is, in having the ideas, I recognise that 
'^ man" is a name of James, and John, and Homer, 
and Socrates, and all the individuals of the class. 



i 




390 BELIEF. [chap. 1 

This is pure association. In having the meaning < 
the name "animal" called up by association, I reco{ 
nise that it is a name of James, and John, and all tl 
individuals of the same class, as well as of all tl 
individuals of other classes ; and this is all that : 
meant by my Belief in the truth of the propositioi 
Man is the name of one cluster of ideas ; animal is tl 
name of a cluster, including both this and oth< 
clusters. The latter cluster is partly the same wit) 
and partly different from, the former. But havin 
two clusters, and knowing them to be two, is not t^ 
things, but one and the same thing ; knowing thei 
in the case in which I call them same, and knowic 
them in the case in which I call them different, 
still having them, having them such as they are, as 
nothing besides. In this second case also, of the bell 
of a proposition, there is, therefore, nothing but idea 
and association. 

We have already shewn, under the head namini 
when explaining the purpose to which Predication 
subservient, that all Predication may be strictly coi 
sidered as of one kind, the application to the san: 
thing of another name of greater extent; in oth< 
words, that Predication by what Logicians call tl 
Difference, Property, or Accident of a thing, may I 
reduced to Predication by the Genus or Species ; bi 
as there is a seeming difference in these latter cases, 
short illustration of them will probably be useful. 

Thus, suppose I say, " Man is rational," and thi 
I choose to expound it, without the aid of the woi 
animal, understood ; what is there in the case ? Tl 
word "man," marks a certain cluster of idea 
Bational" n:arks a portion of that cluster. In tl 



CHAP. XI.] BELIEF. 391 

cluster marked " man,'* the cluster marked "rational" 
is included. To recognise this, is also called believing 
the proposition. But to have one cluster of ideas, 
and know what it is ; then another, and know what it 
is, is merely to have the two clusters. To have a 
second cluster, part of a first, and to know that it is a 
part of the first, is the same thing. 

The peculiar property of that class of words to 
which "Eational" belongs, must here be recollected. 
They are the connotative class. Beside marking some- 
thing peculiarly, they mark something else in con- 
junction; and this last, they are said to connote. 
Thus the word "rational," beside the part of the 
cluster, man, which it peculiarly marks, connotes, or 
marks in conjunction with it, the part included under 
the word animal. 

It will be easy to apply the same explanation to all 
other cases. I say, the rose is red. Bed is a con- 
notative term, distinctivefy marking the idea of red. 
The idea of red is part of the cluster I mark by the 
word rose. 

Take a more obscure expression ; Fire bums. It is 
very obvious, that in the cluster of ideas I mark by the 
word fire, the idea of burning is included. To have 
the idea, " fire," therefore, and the idea, " burning," 
called up by the names standing in predication, — is 
to believe the proposition. 

The Predications, "Virtue is lovely," "Vice is 
hateful," and the like, all admit of a similar exposi- 
tion. In the cluster " virtue," the idea of loveliness 
is included; in the cluster "vice," that of hatefulness is 
included. Such propositions, therefore, merely say, 
that what is a part of a thing, is a part of it. The 



392 BELIEF. [chap. XI. 

two words call up the two ideas; and to have two ideas, 
one a part of another, and know that one is part of 
another, is not two things, but one and the same 
thing. To have the idea of rose, and the idea of red, 
and to know that red makes part of rose, is not two 
things, but one and the same thing. 

Little more is necessary to explain this case of 
Belief in the truth of Propositions. Propositions are 
formed, either of general names, or particular names, 
that is, names of individuals. Propositions consisting 
of general names are by far the most numerous class, 
and by far the most important. The preceding ex- 
position embraces them all. They are all merely 
verbal ; and the Belief is nothing more than recogni- 
tion of the coincidence, entire or partial, of two 
general names. 

The case of Propositions formed of particular names, 
is diflTerent, and yet remains to be explained. " Mr. 
Brougham made a speech in the House of Commons 
on such a day." The Predicate, " making a speech 
in the House of Commons," is neither general, so as 
to include tlie subject, "Mr. Brougham," as in a 
species ; nor is the cluster of ideas, marked by the 
predicate, included in the cluster marked by the sub- 
ject, as a part in its whole. The proposition marks a 
case, either of experience, or of testimony. If I heard 
the speech, the proposition is an expression of the 
Memory of an event ; Mr. Brougham, antecedent, 
and making a speech, consequent ; and the Belief of 
the Proposition, is another name for the Memory of 
the Event. K I did not hear it, Belief of the pro- 
position, is belief in the testimony of those who 
say they heard it. 




CHAP. XI.] BELIEF. 893 

As all propositions relating to individual objects 
are, after this manner, marks either of other, men's 
testimony, or of our own experience, what belief, in 
these cases, is, has already been explained. 

Propositions relating to individuals may be expres- 
sions either of past, or of future events. Belief in 
past events, upon our own experience, is memory ; 
upon other men's experience, is Belief in testimony ; 
both of them resolved into association. Belief in 
future eventff, is the inseparable association of like 
consequents with like antecedents. 

It is not deemed necessary to unfold these associa- 
tions. It has been already done. It seems enough, 
if they are indicated here." 



107 108 



^^ The author has treated in different places several ques- 
tions intimately allied. These are : — 

1. The essential nature of the state of mind called Belief, 
the mental region whence it springs, or the phenomena that it 
is to be classed with — whether Intellect, Feeling, or Will. 

2. The belief in the Past, and the belief in the Future ; in 
what respect they differ from belief in the present. Inseparably 
implicated with this, if not prior to it and preparatory to it, is 
the difference between ideas of Memory and ideas of Imagina- 
tion. 

8. The nature of our continuous Mental Life, or Identity ; 
or what is meant by the Permanent Existence of Mind. 

The chapters on Memory, and on Belief, and the section on 
Identity (Chap. XIV.), all treat of these questions, and con- 
tain profound original views on them all. 

As regards the nature of Belief, he errs (in common with phi- 
losophers generally) in calling it a purely intellectual state. 
The consequence is to mar the explanations of the other points. 

He displays a remarkably just and penetrating insight into 
the differences between Memory and Imagination, and between 



394 BELIEF. [chap. XI. 

our own self or Personality, and the personality of others; 
wherehy he fully accounts for what is involved in Personal 
Identity. 

To resolve the diflBcult phenomenon of Belief in Memory, of 
which the belief in the Permanent Existence of Mind is 
merely another expression, we must clear up the foundations 
of the state of Belief in general. 

The prevailing error on this subject consists in regarding 
Belief as mainly a fact of the Intellect, with a certain partici- 
pation of the feelings. The usual assumption is, that if a 
thing is conceived in a sufficiently vivid manner, or if two 
things are strongly associated in the mind, the state of belief 
is thereby induced. 

A better clue to the real character of belief is found in the 
connexion between faith and works. The practical test ap- 
plied to a roan's belief in a certain matter, is his'acting upon 
it. A capitalist's trust in the soundness of a project, is shown 
by his investing his money. 

In its essential character. Belief is a phase of our active 
nature, — otherwise called the Will. Our tendency to action, 
under special circumstances, assumes the aspect called beUef ; 
as in other circumstances, it takes the form of Desire, and in a 
third situation, appears as Intention ; none of all which are 
essential to voluntary action in its typical form. 

The state of belief or of disbelief is manifested when we are 
pursuing an Intermediate End. In masticating something 
sweet, the fruition of the sweetness sustains the energy of the 
will ; there is no case for the believing function properly so 
called, any more than there is for Desire, Deliberation, or 
Besolution. In going to a shop to purchase sweets, there is 
wanting this immediate support of the voluntary energies ; the 
support grows out of an ideal state, the anticipation of the 
pleasure of sweetness ; this state is called Belief. We are said 
to believe that what we are going to purchase will impart an 
agreeable sensation. The state is one of degree ; we may have 
a strong belief or a weak belief; the strength having no other 
measure than the energy of pursuit inspired by it. If we 




CHAP. XI.] BELIEF. 395 

follow the intermediate end with all the aviditv shown when 
we are realizing the full actuality, we have the perfect belief 
that what we aim at will bring the actuality. If, as often 
happens, we are less strongly moved than this, our belief is 
said to be so much weaker. Or, the comparison may be ex- 
pressed in a different form. If two things are connected 
together as means and end ; and, if on attaining the means, we 
feel as much elated (the end being something good) as if we 
had attained the end, then our belief is at the maximum ; if 
less so, our belief is less. The promise made to us by one 
man gives all the satisfaction of the performance ; the promise 
of another man gives a very inferior satisfaction ; the compa- 
rison measures our comparative trust in the two men. 

So far the matter seems plain. The real difficulty lies in . 
assigning the mental origin or seat of the believing attitude. 
The view to be maintained in this note is, that the state of 
belief is identical with the activity or active disposition of the 
system, at the moment, and with reference to the thing believed. ' 
Now as there are various sources of activity, so there are vari- 
ous sources of belief. These are :— First, Spontaneous Activity, 
or the mere overflow of energy growing out of the nourishment 
of the system. Secondly, Voluntary Action, in the strictest 
signification, or the pursuit of pleasure and the avoidance of 
pain, under the stimulus of one or other of those states. 
Thirdly, the tendency of an Idea to become an Actuality, the 
degree of which tendency accords with the mental excitement 
attending the idea. Fourthly, the addition of Habit to all the 
others. Under everv one of these four influences, we are 
prompted to act, and in the same degree disposed to believe. 
Not one of the tendencies is any guarantee for the truth of the \ 
thing believed ; which is a somewhat grave consequence of the I 
theory contended for. 

It will now be asked, in what acceptation, or under what 
circumstances, does mere activity, no matter how arising, con- 
Btitute, or amount to, the state of belief. There are certain 
situations where the two states are on the surface the same ; 
the fact of going along a certain road implicates the belief that 



396 BELIEF. [chap. XI. 

a certain destination will be readied. Nay, farther, a great 
amount of natural energy would sustain a vigorous pace, irre- 
spective of the certainty of the goal ; while physical feebleness 
would make one languid, however strong the evidence of the 
distant good. All this shows that the mental state called 
believing is of little use without the active power, and that the 
active power readily simulates the believing state, and makes 
it seem greater or less than it really is. 

Let us now look at the question in another light. Having 
a natural fund of activity, with or without the addition of 
proper volitional impulses, we commence moving in a certain 
direction, no matter what. We are not necessarily urged to 
move by any prospect of what we are to find. We act some- 
how, because action comes upon us ; and we take the conse- 
quences. Suppose, however, that we encounter a check, in the 
form of obstruction or pain : this stops our activity in that 
direction, but does not prevent it from taking another direc- 
tion. Now, not only does the actual pain arrest our steps, but 
also the memory of it (if the circumstances are such as to give 
it a certain degree of strength) is deterring. We avoid that 
track in the future. With reference to it there is generated a 
voluntary activity and determination, containing the whole 
essence of belief; namely, the avoidance of a certain course, 
before the point of actual pain. This is, to all intents, belief on 
the side of prospective harm. Equally important is it to re- 
mark, that wherever we have not experienced any positive 
harm, check, or obstruction, we go on as readily and as ener- 
getically as ever. Our natural state of mind, our primitive 
start, is tantamount to full confidence or belief; which is 
broken in upon, only after hostile experiences ; by these, the 
original condition of imphcit confidence is impaired ; and in 
certain directions, a positive anticipation or determining voli- 
tion and belief of evil is substituted. An animal bom on a 
summer morning, and able to move about irom the first, would 
not anticipate darkness ; it would behave exactly as if light 
were never intermitted. A few days' experience makes an in- 



CHAP. XI.] BELIEF. 897 

road on this primitive confidence, and modifies it to suit the 
facts. 

Let Qs add another circumstance to the foregoing example. 
Instead of the individual moving hlindly on, by mere exube- 
rance or spontaneity, let the movement be favoured by bring- 
ing pleasure at every step. In this situation, the whole force 
of the spontaneity at the time, and the whole force of the will 
(proportioned to the stimulating pleasure), sustain the move- 
ments at a more energetic pace ; and there is nothing to 
counter-work them. The mental disposition is now equivalent 
to the highest confidence ; there is no hesitation, no distrust, 
nothing but exuberant unrestrained activity. Neither scepticism 
as to the unknown future, nor a demand for assurance that the 
present condition is to last, is entertained by the mind. The 
individual does not inquire whether a precipice, or the lair of 
a devouring beast be on the track. The ignorance is at once 
bliss and belief. 

Here, then, we may discern the original tendency of the mind 
as regards belief. To have gone a certain way with safety and 
with fruition, is an ample inducement to continue in that par- 
ticular path. The situation contains all that is meant by full 
and unbounded confidence that the future and the distant will 
be exactly what the present is. * The primary impulse of every 
creature is at the farthest remove from a procedure according to 
Logic. In the beginning, confidence is at its maximum ; the 
course of education is towards abating, and narrowing it, so as 
to adapt it to the fact of things. Every check is a lesson, de- 
stroying to a certain extent the over-vaulting assurance of the 
natural mind, and planting a belief in evil, at points where 
originally flourished only the illimitable belief in good. 

There is thus wrapped up, in the active impulses of our 
nature, a power of credulity leading us habitually to overstep 
the experience of the present. We believe in the uniformity 
of nature with a vengeance. We have to be schooled by ad- 
verse encounters, before we are brought within the limits of 
the real uniformity. Our natural credulity is equally excessive 



398 BELIEF. [chap. XI. 

on the side of evil and on the side of good ; where we have 
once suffered we expect always to suffer. In short, whereas to 
the logician, there is a great gulf hetween the present and 
future, the known and the unknown, to the natural man there 
is not even a break. The early mind laughs the logician's 
gulf to scorn. All that science or logic has been able to do is 
to show that at certain points the assumed uniformity is broken 
in upon ; tractable and docile minds learn to respect these ex- 
ceptions; but wherever an outlet exists, with no barrier, or 
express prohibition, not only is that outlet followed, it is 
followed with all the pristine impetuosity of our active nature. 
The ordinary logician, over-awed by this force of determina- 
tion, seldom asserts the principle that the present can by no 
logical implication contain the future, that a present reality 
holds in itself no warrant for the unknown past, the distant or 
the future. The barrier that this principle would interpose to 
our inferences has been carried by assault ; the gordian knot 
is always cut with the sword. 

From the point of view of the logician, a serious difficulty 
attaches to our belief in the Memory of the Past ; the psycho- 
logist can refer it to the incontinence of the mind, in moving 
freely away from the present in any direction, in accounting 
the step next to be entered upon in the absence of impediment, 
as secure as the one actually taken. 

Let us consider the process first by reverting to the antici- 
pation of the Future. That a state of things now begun will 
continue indefinitely is what the mind not only assumes but 
proceeds upon with a vehemence proportioned to its active 
endowments and dispositions, until admonished to the contrary 
by the experience of being checked. All instruction, or cor- 
roborating information, is dispensed with at the outset : the 
burden is always laid upon the denier. Of this tendency of 
the mind the examples are innumerable, and need only to be 
indicated. In the default of evidence, on one side, and against 
what ought to be considered evidence on the other side, we 
believe that, as we feel now, so we shall feel always. And our 
belief is not simply giving the benefit of any doubt there may 




CHAP. XI.] BELIEF. 399 

be to the opiDion we incline to ; it is a powerful impulse, 
oonnteracted only by a severe and protracted discipline. Also, 
we believe that our own feelings exactly measure and corre- 
spond to the feelings of every one else. Very few are ever 
broaght within the limits of the actual truth on this point ; the 
primitive tendency is not met by a sufficient force of the re- 
quisite education. 

It is the belief in the future that offers the simplest and 
clearest example of the mind's tendency to overleap the actual, 
to see no hard line between the present and the remote. The 
belief in nature's continuance and uniformity has always been 
in excess. From the very same tendency springs whatever 
belief we have of our own continued existence and identity. 
We make light of the difference between the conceived future 
and the real present. 

Much more subtlety attends the Belief in Memory : the 
meaning of which is, that, whereas certain ideas recalled by 
memory are, de facto, ideas, or mental elements of a kind that 
imagination might furnish, they yet carry with them the belief 
that they represent what was once actuality, like any sensation 
of the present moment. 

Let us first apply to the case the overweening instinct now 
fully set forth. To the logician, the past, however recent^ is 
divided by a deep gulf from the present : the idea and the 
actuality can never be interchanged. It is not so with the 
mind following its native disposition. I have a present sensa- 
tion of thirst ; in that present consciousness, I have the 
highest attainable assurance ; my action upon it is unhesitating 
and complete. Let that sensation, however, pass away for 
one minute, and there remains only the idea, which, as a mere 
idea, by virtue of its recency, may be at its maximum strength. 
The point now to be explained is, why I believe not merely 
that I have the idea, which as a fact of present consciousness 
I am entitled to believe to the utmost, but that the idea was 
lately a full actuality as much as is my present state of satisfied 
sensation. The explanation seems to be, that we really make 
no radical difference between a present and a proximate past ; 



400 BEUSr. [CHAF. XI. 

the inarch of the mind is to and fro, into the past and the 
future, with the same tendency to act out both, as to act out 
the present, assuming always the absence of apositire check or 
break. Such is the inveterate persistence of the natural 
activity, that the belief in the thirst when present (shown by 
action in accordance therewith) has a continuing efficacy 
second only to the belief in a still present state. At the 
moment of actual thirst, I, in the absence of corrective in- 
fluences, (and to some degree in spite of these), would be dis- 
posed to believe that I always was, and always would be thirsty. 
The satisfaction that has followed reduces that belief to a frac- 
tion of its foimer state ; and my utmost licence of assumption 
would be, (in the absence of contradictory beliefs) that all my 
past has been one thirst The fact is, that, in these moments, 
when I give full licence to the sway of the idea, by voluntarily 
remitting attention to my new experience, that idea may swell 
out into a pitch of mental occupation hardly distinguishable 
from the real presence ; in which case, my past self and my 
present self are, as it were, one and indivisible ; they are freely 
interchanged ; the actual consciousness compounds and con- 
tains them both. 

Groing another step backward, let us consider the state prior 
to the thirst; say a consciousness of heat and muscular 
fatigue. What proof have I that these penultimate states were 
present in continuity of time and in immediate precedence to 
the thirst, and are not vagaries of imagination, nor drawn from 
a remote past, accidentally revived ? There seems no other 
evidence than that already given regarding the proximate 
state. In surrendering our mind to the idea still remaining, 
and so imparting a momentary quasi-reality to the state, we 
have an experience possessing the characteristic features of 
present reality. 

Another consideration has to be mentioned. The state of 
transition from reality to reality is a distinct and unmistakeable 
experience. The transition from a present sensation of thirst 
to a present sensation of satisfied thirst is a march of its own 
kind — unique and explicit. There are in it attendant ciroum- 




CHAP. XI.] BELIEF. 401 

stftQceSy not to be confounded with the transition from a 
present to a past across a break. The recent and proximate 
state of thirst has a mode of continuity, a setting in contact 
with the present, such as did not belong to the thirst of yester- 
day, and still less belongs to the idea of the narrated thirst of 
another person. No sensation ever comes to us alone, or with- 
out a group of collaterals ; and the collaterals of the formerly 
actual, and of the ideal never an actual, are wholly different. 
(This point has been well illustrated in the text, Chap. X. on 
Memory). The peculiar link whereby a present actual passes 
out of actuality into proximate actuality, when it is barely 
deprived of existence in the real, is a fact that remains and 
attaches to everything that has been actual ; and the unbroken 
sequence of these is our past life of actuality, clearly marked 
out from every aggregate of ideas indiscriminately culled and 
united in a whole of imagination. This last process has its 
own distinctive collaterals; it is accompanied by numerous 
shocks of agreement in difference, under the law of similarity ; 
but we do not confound these or other accompaniments with 
the gliding movement of the mind over the chronological past 
Thus to .take the extreme instance. We can assume another 
person's mental state (to a certain degree) ; and yet we do not 
fuse that with our own identity. There is a broad line of 
demarcation between each one's experience that they term their 
actual, and the assumption of a second person's experience, 
say of thirst, of fear, of curiosity. Our own past has con- 
tinuity and fusion, in itself, and a peculiar set of circumstantial 
surroundings ; in general, too, it is easy to remember. The 
other person's experience is received through a machinery of 
objective signs, laboriously interpreted, and not realized with 
the collaterals of an experience of our own ; it is shorn of all 
the beams of our own personality, whether in the present or in 
the recollected past. 

The distinction now drawn, (substantially what is exem- 
plified at length in the chapter referred to,) is confirmed by 
what happens on occasions when memory and imagination are 
confounded. Wh^ a fact is long past, and all but forgotten, 

VOL. I. D D 



402 BELIEF. [chap. XL 

the oblivion overtakes the evidentiary collaterals, the marks of 
continuity that link together what has been one actual state to 
Ti^hat has been another actual state. I remember having 
had the idea or purpose to say or to do something on a 
certain occasion ; but I do not remember whether I actually 
did or said the thing. The memory of the occasion is incom- 
plete ; the links are snapped that connect that idea with my 
remembered acting at the time referred to ; it is not in its 
place in that authenticated series ; and it is not associated with 
the collateral circumstances that always attend an actual trans- 
action. On the other hand, as is well remarked in the 
chapter quoted, imagination may simulate remembered reality, 
when there is wanting the real memory that would people the 
occasion with authentic circumstances, and when the imagina- 
tion has been excited and exercised so as to include in its 
compass the collaterals that go with an experience in the 
actual. — B. 

^^ The analysis of Belief presented in this chapter, brings 
out the conclusion that all cases of Belief are simply cases of 
indissoluble association : that there is no generic distinction, 
but only a difference in the strength of the association, between 
a case of belief and a case of mere imagination : that to believe 
a succession or coexistence between two facts is only to have 
the ideas of the two facts so strongly and closely associated, 
that we cannot help having the one idea when we have the 
other. 

If this can be proved, it is the greatest of all the triumphs 
of the Association Psychology. To first appearance, no two 
things can be more distinct than thinking of two things to- 
gether, and believing that they are joined together in the 
outward world. Nevertheless, that the latter state of mind is 
only an extreme case of the former, is, as we see, the deliberate 
doctrine of the author of the Analysis ; and it has also in its 
favour the high psychological authority of Mr. Herbert Spencer. 
Mr. Bain, in the preceding note, as well as in his systematic 
work, looks at the phenomenon from another side, and pro* 
nounces that what constitutes Belief is the power which an 




CBAP. XI.] BKLIEF. 403 

idea has obtained over the Will. It is well known and under- 
stood that a mere idea may take such possession of the mind 
as to exercise an irresistible control over the active faculties, 
even independently of Volition, and sometimes in opposition 
to it This^ which Mr. Bain calls the power of a Fixed Idea, 
is exemplified in the cases of what is called fascination : the 
impulse which a person looking from a precipice sometimes 
feels to throw himself down it ; and the cases of crimes said to 
have been committed by persons who abhor them, because 
that very horror has filled their minds with an intense and 
irrepressible idea of the act. Since an idea is sometimes able 
to overpower volition, it is no wonder that an idea should de- 
termine volition ; as it does whenever we, under the influence 
of the idea of a pleasure or of a pain, will that which obtains 
for us the pleasure or averts the pain. In this voluntary 
action, our conduct is grounded upon a relation between means 
and an end; (that is, upon a constant conjunction of facts in 
the way of causation, ultimately resolvable into a case of re- 
semblance and contiguity) : in common and unanalytical lan- 
guage, upon certain laws of nature on which we rely. Our 
reliance is the consequence of an association formed in our 
minds between the supposed cause and its efiect, resulting 
either from personal experience of their conjunction, from the 
teachings of other people, or from accidental appearances. 
Now, according to Mr. Bain, when this association between 
the means and the end, the end calling up the idea of the 
means, arrives at the point of giving to the idea thus called up 
a command over the Will, it constitutes Belief. We believe a 
things when we are ready to act on the faith of it ; to face the 
practical consequences of taking it for granted : and therein 
lies the distinction between believing two facts to be conjoined, 
and merely thinking of them together. Thus far Mr. Bain : 
and with this I fiiUy agree. But something is still wanting to 
the completeness of the analysis. The theory as stated, distin- 
guishes two antecedents, by a difierence not between themselves, 
but between their consequents. But when the consequents 
differ, the antecedents cannot be the same. An association 

D D 2 



I 



1 



404 BELIEF. [chap. XI. 

of ideas is or is not a Belief, according as it has or has not fbe 
power of leading us to voluntary action : this is undeniable : but 
when there is a difference in the effects there must be a difference 
in the cause : the association which leads to action must be, in 
some respect or other, different from that which stops at thought. 
The question, therefore, raised, and, as they think, resolved, 
by the author of the Analysis and by Mr. Spencer, still demands 
an answer. Does the difference between the two cases con- 
sist in this, that in the one case the association is dissoluble, 
in the other it is so much more closely riveted, by repetition, 
or by the intensity of the associated feelings, as to be no longer 
dissoluble ? This is the question we are compelled to face. 

I. 

In the first place, then, it may be said — If Belief consisted 
in an indissoluble association. Belief itself w6uld be indis- 
soluble. An opinion once formed could never afterwards 
be destroyed or changed. This objection is good against the 
word indissoluble. But those who maintain the theory do 
not mean by an indissoluble association, one which nothing 
that can be conceived to happen could possibly dissolve. All 
our associations of ideas would probably be dissoluble, if ex- 
perience presented to us the associated facts separate from one 
another. If we have any associations which are, in practice, 
indissoluble, it can only be because the conditions of oar 
existence deny to us the experiences which would be capable 
of dissolving them. What the author of the Analysis means 
by indissoluble associations, are those which we cannot^ by 
any mental effort, at present overcome. If two ideas are, at 
the present time, so closely associated in our minds, that 
neither any effort of our own, nor anything else which can 
happen, can enable us now to have the one without its instantly 
raising up the other, the association is, in the author's sense 
of the term, indissoluble. There would be less risk of mis- 
understanding if we were to discard the word indissoluble, and 
confine ourselves to the expression which the author employs 
as its equivalent, inseparable. This I will henceforth do, and 



CHAP. XL] BELIEF. 405 

we will now enquire whether Belief is nothing but an inse- 
parable association. 

In favour of this supposition there is the striking fact, that 
an inseparable association very often suffices to command 
belief. There are innumerable cases of Belief for which no 
cause can be assigned, except that something has created so 
strong an association between two ideas that the person cannot 
separate them in thought. The author has given a large as- 
sortment of such cases, and has made them tell with great 
force in support of his theory. Locke, as the author mentions, 
had already seen, that this is one of the commonest and most 
fertile sources of erroneous thought ; deserving to be placed 
high in any enumeration of Fallacies. When two things have 
long been habitually thought of together, and never apart^ 
until the association between the ideas has become so strong 
that we have great difficulty, or cannot succeed at all, in sepa- 
rating them, there is a strong tendency to believe that the facts 
are conjoined in reality ; and when the association is closer 
still, that their conjunction is what is called Necessary. Most of 
the schools of philosophy, both past and present, are so much 
under the influence of this tendency, as not only to justify it in 
principle, but to erect it into a Law of Things. The majority 
of metaphysicians have maintained, and even now maintain, 
that there are things which, by the laws of intelligence, cannot be 
separated in thought, and that these things are not only always 
united in fact, but united by necessity: and, again, other things, 
which cannot be united in thought — which cannot be thought 
of together, and that these not only never do, but it is im* 
possible they ever should, coexist in fact. These supposed 
necessities are the very foundation of the Transcendental schools 
of metaphysics, of the Common Sense school, and many others 
which have not received distinctive names. These are facts in 
human nature and human history very favourable to the 
supposition that Belief is but an inseparable association, or at 
all events that an inseparable association suffices to create 
Belief. 

On the contrary side of the question it may be urged, that 



406 BELIEF. [chap, xi: 

the inseparable associations ivhich are so often found to gene- 
rate Beliefs, do not generate them in everybody. Analytical 
and philosophical minds often escape from them, and resist the 
tendency to believe in an objective conjunction between facts 
merely because they are unable to separate the ideas. The 
author s typical example of an inseparable association, (and 
there can be none more suited to the purpose,) is the associa- 
tion between sensations of colour and the tangible magnitudes, 
figures, and distances, of which they are signs, and which are 
so completely merged with them into one single impression, 
that we believe we see distance, extension, and figure, though 
all we really see is the optical effects which accompany them, 
all the rest being a rapid interpretation of natural signs. The 
generality of mankind, no doubt, and all men before they have 
studied the subject, believe what the author says they do ; but 
a great majority of those who have studied the subject believe 
otherwise : they believe that a large portion of the facts which 
we seem to see, we do not really see, but instantaneously infer. 
Yet the association remains inseparable in these scientific 
thinkers as in others : the retinal picture suggests to them the 
real magnitude^ in the same irresistible manner as it does to 
other people. To take another of the authors examples: 
when we look at a distant terrestrial object through a telescope, 
it appears nearer ; if we reverse the telescope it appears further 
off. The signs by which we judge of distance from us, here 
mislead, because those signs are found in conjunction with real 
distances widely different from those with which they coexist in 
our ordinary experience. The association, however, persists, 
and is irresistible, in one person as much as in another ; for 
every one recognises that the object, thus looked at, seems 
nearer, or farther off, than we know it to be. But does this 
ever make any of us, except perhaps an inexperienced child, 
believe that the object is at the distance at which we seem to 
see it ? The inseparable association, though so persistent and 
powerful as to create in everybody an optical illusion, creates 
no eZelusion, but leaves our belief as conformable to the 
realities of fact as if no such illusive appearance had presented 



CHAP. XI.] BELIEF. 407 

itself. Cases similar to this are so frequent, that cautious and 
thoughtful minds, enlightened by experience on the misleading 
character of inseparable associations, learn to distrust them, 
and do not, even by a first impulse, believe a connexion in fact 
because there is one in thought, but wait for evidence. 

Following up the same objection, it may be said that if 
belief is only an inseparable association, belief is a matter of 
habit and accident, and not of reason. Assuredly an associa- 
tion, however close, between two ideas, is not a sufficient 
ground of belief ; is not evidence that the corresponding facts 
are united in external nature. The theory seems to annihilate 
all distinction between the belief of the wise, which is regulated 
by evidence, and conforms to the real successions and coexis- 
tences of the facts of the universe, and the belief of fools, which 
is mechanically produced by any accidental association that 
suggests the idea of a succession or coexistence to the mind : 
a belief aptly characterized by the popular expression, believ- 
ing a thing because they have iaken it into their heads. 

Indeed, the author of the Analysis is compelled by his 
theory to affirm that we actually believe in accordance with the 
misleading associations which generate what are commonly 
called illusions of sense. He not only says that we believe 
we see 'figure and distance — which the great majority of psy- 
chologists since Berkeley do not believe ; but he says, that in 
the case of ventriloquy *' we cannot help believing" that the 
sound proceeds from the place, of which the ventriloquist 
imitates the effect ; that the sound of bells opposed by the 
wind, not only appears farther off, but is believed to come 
from farther off, although we may know the exact distance 
from which it comes; that " in passing on board ship, another 
ship at sea, we believe that she has all the motion, we none :" 
nay even, that when we have turned ourselves round with 
velocity several times, " we believe that the world is turning 
round." Surely it is more true to say, as people generally do 
say, " the world seems to us to turn round." To me these 
cases appear so many experimental proofs, that the tendency 
of an inseparable association to generate belief, even when that 



408 BELIEF. [chap. XI. 

tendency is fully effectual in creating the irresistible appear- 
ance of a state of things that does not really exists may yet be 
impotent against reason^ that is» against preponderant evidence. 

In defence of these paradoxes, let us now consider what the 
author of the Analysis might say. One thing he would cer- 
tainly say : that the belief he affirms to exist in these oases of 
illusion, is but a momentary one ; with which the belief enter- 
tained at all other times may be at variance. In the case, for 
instance, of those who, from an early association formed 
between darkness and ghosts, feel terror in the dark though 
they have a confirmed disbelief in ghosts, the author^s 
opinion is that there is a temporary belief, at the moment when 
the terror is felt. This was also the opinion of Dngald 
Stewart: and the agreement (by no means a solitary one) 
between two thinkers of such opposite tendencies, reminds one 
of the saying *' Quand un Fran9ais et un Anglais sont d'accord, 
il faut bien qu'ils aient raison." Yet the author seems to 
adopt this notion not from observation of the case, but from 
an antecedent opinion that '* dread implies belief, and an un- 
controllable belief," which, he says, ''we need not stay to 
prove." It is to be wished, in this case, that he had staid to 
prove it : for it is harder to prove than he thought. The emo- 
tion of fear, the physical effect on the nervous system known 
by that name, may be excited, and I believe often is excited, 
simply by terrific imaginations. That these imaginations are, 
even for a moment, mistaken for menacing realities, may be true, 
but ought not to be assumed without proof. The circumstance 
most in its favour (one not forgotten by the author) is that in 
dreams, to which may be added hallucinations, firightful ideas 
are really mistaken for terrible facts. But dreams are states in 
which all other sensible ideas are mistaken for outward facts. 
Yet sensations and ideas are intrinsically different, and it is not 
the normal state of the human mind to confound the one 
with the other. 

Besides, this supposition of a momentary belief in ghosts 
breaking in upon and interrupting an habitual and permanent 
belief that there are no ghosts, jars considerably with the doc- 




CHAP. XI.] BELIEF. 400 

• 

trine it is brought to support, that belief is an inseparable asso- 
ciation. According to that doctrine, here are two inseparable 
associations, which yet are so far from exclusively possessing 
the mind, that they alternate with one another, each Insepa- 
rable implying the separation of the other Inseparable. The 
association of darkness with the absence of ghosts must be 
anything but inseparable, if there only needs the presence of 
darkness to revive the contrary association. Tet an associa- 
tion so very much short of inseparable, is accompanied, at least 
in the absence of darkness, by a full belief. Darkness is in 
this case associated with two incompatible ideas, the idea of 
ghosts and that of their absence, but with neither of them in- 
separably, and in consequence the two associations alternately 
prevail, as the surrounding circumstances favour the one or 
the other ; agreeably to the laws of Compound Association, 
laid down with great perspicuity and reach of thought by Mr. 
Bain in his systematic treatise. 

To the argument, that the inseparable associations which 
create optical and other illusions, do not, when opposed by 
reason, generate the false belief, the author s answer would pro- 
bably be some such as the following. When the rational thinker 
succeeds in resisting the belief, he does so by more or less 
completely overcoming the inseparableness of the association. 
Associations may be conquered by the formation of counter- 
associations. Mankind had formerly an inseparable associa- 
tion between sunset and the motion of the sun, and this in- 
separable association compelled them to believe that in the 
phenomenon of sunset the sun moves and the earth is at rest. 
But Copernicus, Galileo^ and after them, all astronomers, 
found evidence, that the earth moves and the sun is at rest : 
in other words, certain experiences, and certain reasonings 
from those experiences, took place in their minds, the tendency 
of which was to associate sunset with the ideas of the earth in 
motion and the sun at rest. This was a counter-association, 
which could not coexist, at least at the same instant, with the 
previous association connecting sunset with the sun in motion 
and the earth at rest But for i^ long time the new associa- 



410 BELIEF. [chap. n. 

ting inflaenoes coald not be powerful enough to get the better 
of the old association, and change the belief which it implied. 
^ A belief which has become habituali is seldom overcome bat 
by a slow process. However, the experiences and mental 
processes that tended to form the new association still went 
on ; there was a conflict between the old association and the 
causes which tended to produce a new one ; until, by the long 
continuance and frequent repetition of those causes, the old 
association, gradually undermined, ceased to be inseparable, 
and it became possible to associate the idea of sunset with that 
of the earth moving and the sun at rest ; whereby the previous 
idea of the sun moving and the earth at rest was excluded for 
the time, and as the new association grew in strength, was at 
last thrown out altogether. The argument should go on to 
say that after a still further prolongation of the new experiences 
and reasonings, the old association became impossible and the 
new one inseparable ; for, until it became inseparable, there 
could, according to the theory, bono belief. And this, in truth, 
does sometimes happen. There are instances in the history of 
science, even down to the present day, in which somethiDg 
which was once believed to be impossible, and its opposite to 
be necessary, was first seen to be possible, next to be true, and 
finally came to be considered as necessarily true, and its oppo- 
site (once deemed necessary) as impossible, and eves- incon- 
ceivable ; insomuch that it is thought by some that what was 
reputed an impossibility, might have been known to be a 
necessity. In such cases, the quality of inseparableness has 
passed, in those minds at least, from the old association to the 
new one. But in much the greatest number of oases the 
change does not proceed so far, and both associations remain 
equally possible. The case which furnished our last instance 
is an example. Astronomers, and all educated persons, now asso- 
ciate sunset with motion confined to the earth, and flrmly 
believe this to be what really takes place ; but they have not 
formed this association with such exclusiveness and intensity 
as to have become unable to associate sunset with motion ( 
the sun. On the contrary, the visible appearance still suggee 



GHAP. XI.] BELIEF. 411 

motion of the sun, and many people, though aware of the 
truth, find that they cannot hy any effort make themselves 
see sunset any otherwise than as the sinking of the sun helow 
the earth. My own experience is different : I find that I can 
represent the phenomenon to myself in either light ; I can, 
according to the manner in which I direct my thoughts, see 
sunset either as the earth tilting above the sun, or as the sun 
dipping below the earth : in the same manner as when a rail- 
way train in motion passes another at rest, we are able, if we 
prevent our eyes from resting on any third object, to imagine 
the motion as being either in the one train or in the other. How, 
then, can it be said that there is an inseparable association of 
sunset with the one mode of representation, and a consequent 
inability to associate it with the other ? It is associated with 
both, and the one of the two associations which is nearest to 
being inseparable is that which belief does not accompany. 
The difference between different people in the ability to repre- 
sent to themselves the phenomenon under either aspect, depends 
rather on the degree of exercise which they have given to their 
imagination in trying to frame mental pictures conformable to 
the two hypotheses, than upon those considerations of reason 
and evidence which yet may determine their belief. 

The question still remains, what is there which exists in the 
hypothesis believed, and does not exist in the hypothesis re- 
jected, when we have associations which enable our imagina- 
tion to represent the facts agreeably to either hypothesis ? In 
other words, what is Belief? 

I think it must be admitted, that when we can represent to 
ourselves in imagination either of two conflicting suppositions, 
one of which we believe, and disbelieve the other, neither of 
the associations can be inseparable ; and there must therefore 
be in the fact of Belief, which exists in only one of the two 
cases, something for which inseparable association does not 
account. We seem to have again come up, on a different side, 
to the difi&culty which we felt in the discussion of Memory, in 
accounting for the distinction between a fact remembered, and 
^the same fact imagined. There is a close parallelism between 



412 BELIEF. [chap. XI. 

the two problems. In both, we have the difference between a 
fact and a representation in imagination ; between a sensation^ 
or combination of sensations, and an idea, or combination of 
ideas. This difference we all accept as an ultimate fact. Bnt 
the difficulty is this. Let me first state it as it presents itself 
in the case of Memory. Having in our mind a certain combi- 
nation of ideas, in a group or a train, accompanying or suc- 
ceeding one another ; what is it which, in one case, makes us 
recognize this group or train as representing a group or train 
of the corresponding sensations, remembered as having been 
actually felt by us, while in another case we are aware that 
the sensations have never occurred to us in a group or train 
corresponding to that in which we are now having the ideas ? 
This is the problem of Memory. Let me now state the problem 
of Belief, when the belief is not a case of memory. Here also 
we have ideas connected in a certain order in our own mind, 
which . makes us think of a corresponding order among the 
sensations, and we believe that this similar combination of 
the sensations is a real fact : i.e. whether we ever felt it or not, 
we confidently expect that we should feel it under certain 
given conditions. In Memory, we believe that the realities in 
Nature, the sensations and combinations of sensations pre- 
sented to us from without, have occurred to us in an order 
which agrees with that in which we are representing them to 
ourselves in thought : in those cases of Belief which are not 
cases of Memory, we believe, not that they have occurred, but 
that they would have occurred, or would occur, in that order. 

What is it that takes place in us, when we recognize that 
there is this agreement between the order of our ideas and the 
order in which we either had or might have had the sensations 
which correspond to them — that the order of the ideas repre-^ 
sents a similar order either in our actual sensations, or in those 
which, under some given circumstances, we should have reason 
to expect ? What, in short, is the difference to our minds 
between thinking of a reality, and representing to ourselves an 
imaginary picture ? I confess that I can perceive no escape 
from the opinion that the distinction is ultimate and primordial. 



CHAP. XI.] BELIEF. 413 

There is no more difficulty in holding it to be so, than in 
holding the difference between a sensation and an idea to be 
primordial. It seems almost another aspect of the same dif- 
ference. The author himself says, in the chapter on Memory, 
that, a sensation and an idea being different, it is to be ex- 
pected that the remembrance of having had a sensation should 
be different from the remembrance of having had an idea, and 
that this is a sufficient explanation of our distinguishing them. 
If this, then, is an original distinction, why should not the dis- 
tinction be original between the remembrance of having had a 
sensation, and the actually having an idea (which is the diffe- 
rence between Memory and Imagination) ; and between the ex- 
pectation of having a sensation, and the actually having an idea 
(which is the difference between Belief and Imagination) ? 
Grant these differences, and there is nothing further to explain 
in the phenomenon of Belief. For every belief is either the 
memory of having had a sensation (or other feeling), or the 
expectation that we should have the sensation or feeling in 
some given state of circumstances, if that state of circum- 
stances could come to be realized. 

II. 

That all belief is either Memory or Expectation, will be 
clearly seen if we run over all the different objects of Belief. 
The author has already done so, in order to establish his 
theory ; and it is now necessary that we should do the same. 

The objects of Belief are enumerated by the author in the 
following terms : — 1. Events, real existences. 2. Testimony. 
8. The truth of propositions. He intended this merely as a 
rough grouping, sufficient for the purpose if it includes every- 
thing : for it is evident that the divisions overlap one another, 
and it will be seen presently that the last two are but cases of 
the first. 

Belief in events he further divides into belief in present 
events, in past events, and in future events. Belief in present 
events he subdivides into belief in immediate existences present 
to my senses, and belief in immediate existences not present 



414 BELIEF. [CHA?. XI. 

to my senses. We see by this that he recognises no difference, 
in a metaphysical sense, between existences and events, be- 
cause he regards, with reason, objects as merely the supposed 
antecedents of events. The distinction, however, reqaires to be 
kept up, being no other than the fundamental difference 
between simultaneousness, and succession or change. 

Belief in immediate existences present to my senses, is either 
belief in my sensations, or belief in external objects. Believing 
that I feel what I am at this moment feeling, is, as the author 
says, only another name for having the feeling ; with the idea, 
however, of Myself, associated with it ; of which hereafter. 

The author goes on to analyse Belief in external objects 
present to our senses ; and he resolves it into a present sensa- 
tion, united by an irresistible association with the numerous 
other sensations which we are accustomed to receive in con- 
junction with it. The Object is thus to be understood as a 
complex idea, compounded of the ideas of various sensations 
which we have, and of a far greater number of sensations which 
we should expect to have if certain contingencies were realized. 
In other words, our idea of an object is an idea of a group of 
possibilities of sensation, some of which we believe we can 
realize at pleasure, while the remainder would be realized if 
certain conditions took place, on which, by the laws of nature, 
they are dependent. As thus explained, belief in the existence 
of a physical object, is belief in the occurrence of certain sen- 
sations, contingently on certain previous conditions. This is 
a state of mind closely allied to Expectation of sensations. 
For — ^though we use the name Expectation only with reference 
to the future, and even to the probable future — our state of 
mind in respect to what ma^be future, and even to what might 
have been future, is of the same general nature, and depends 
on the same principles, as Expectation. I believe that a cer- 
tain event will positively happen, because the known conditions 
which always accompany it in experience have already taken 
place. I believe that another event will certainly happen if 
the known conditions which always accompany it take place, 
and those conditions I can produce when I please. I believe 




CHAP. XI.] BELIEF. 415 

that a third event will happen if its conditions take place, but 
I mast wait for those conditions ; I cannot realize them at 
pleasure, and may never realize them at all. The first of these 
three cases is positive expectation, the other two are condi- 
tional expectation. A fourth case is my belief that the event 
would have happened at any former time if the conditions had 
taken place at that time. It is not consonant to usage to call 
this Expectation, but, considered as a case of belief, there is no 
essential difference between it and the third case. My belief 
that I should have heard Cicero had I been present in the 
Forum, and mv belief that I shall hear Mr. Gladstone if I am 
present in the House of Commons, can nowise be regarded as 
essentially different phenomena. The one we call Expectation, 
the other not, but the mental principle operative in both these 
cases of belief is the same. 

The author goes on to say, that the belief that we should 
have the sensations if certain conditions were realized, that is, 
if we had certain other sensations, is merely an inseparable 
association of the two sets of sensations with one another, 
and their inseparable union with the idea of ourselves as having 
them. But I confess it seems to me that all this may exist in 
a case of simple imagination. The author would himself admit 
that the complex idea of the object, in all its fulness, may be 
in the mind without belief. What remains is its association 
with the idea of ourselves as percipients. But this also, I 
cannot but think, we may have in the case of an imaginary 
scene, when we by no means believe that any corresponding 
reality exists. Does the idea of our own personality never 
enter into the pictures in our imagination ? Are we not our- 
selves present in the scenes which we conjure up in our minds ? 
I apprehend we are as constantly present in them, and as con- 
scious of our presence, as we are in contemplating a real 
prospect. In either case the vivacity of the other impressions 
eclipses, for the most part, the thought of ourselves as spec- 
tators, but not more so in the imaginary, than in the real, 
spectacle. 

It appears to me, then, that to account for belief in external 



416 BSUSF. [chap. XI. 

objects, we mast postulate Expectation ; and since all oar ex- 
pectations, whether positive or contingent^ are a conseqaence 
of our Memory of the past (as distinguished from a repre- 
sttitation in fancy), we must also postulate Memory. The 
distinction between a mere combination of ideas in thought, 
and one which recals to us a combination of sensations as 
actually experienced, always returns on our hands as an ulti- 
mate postulate. 

The author proceeds to shew how this idea of a mere group 
of sensations, actual or contingent, becomes knit up with an 
idea of a permanent Something, lying, as it were, under these 
sensations, and causing them ; this further enlargement of the 
complex idea taking place through the intimate, or, as he 
calls it, inseparable association, generated by experience, which 
makes us unable to imagine any phenomenon as beginning to 
exist without something anterior to it which causes it. This 
explanation seems to me quite correct as far as it goes ; but^ 
while it accounts for the difficulty we have in not ascribing our 
sensations to some cause or other, it does not explain why we 
accept, as in fact we do, the group itself as the cause. I have 
endeavoured to clear up this difficulty elsewhere (Examination 
of Sir William Hamilton's Philosophy), and in preference to 
going over the ground a second time, I subjoin, at the end of 
the volume, the chapter containing the explanation. That 
chapter supplies all that appears to me to be further necessary 
on the subject of belief in outward objects ; which is thus 
shewn to be a case of Conditional Expectation. 

It is unnecessary to follow the author into the minute con- 
sideration of Belief in the existence of objects not present, 
since the explanation already given equally applies to them. 
My belief in the present existence of St. Paul's is correctly 
set forth by the author as consisting of the following elements : 
I believe that I have seen St. Paul's : I believe that I shall see 
St. Paul's, when I am again in St. Paul's Churchyard : I 
believe that I should see St. Paul's, if I were in St Paul's 
Churchyard at this instant All this, as he justly remarks, is 
Memory or Expectation. And this, or some part of this, is 




CHAP. XI.] BELIEF. 417 

the whole of what is in any case meant by belief in the real 
existence of an external object. The author adds, I also be- 
lieve that if any creature whose senses are analogous to my 
owUj is now in St. Paul's Churchyard, it has the present sen- 
sation of that edifice. But this belief is not necessary to my 
belief in the continued existence of St. Paul's. For that, it 
suffices that I believe I should myself see it. My belief that 
other creatures would do so, is pjurt of my belief in the real 
existence of other creatures like myself; which is no more 
mysterious, than our belief in the real existence of any other 
objects some of whose properties rest not on direct sensation, 
but on inference. 

Belief in past existences, when those existences have been 
perceived by ourselves, is Memory. When the past existences 
are inferred from evidence, the belief of them is not Memory, 
but a fact of the same nature as Expectation ; being a belief 
that we should have had the sensations if we had been cotem- 
porary with the objects, and had been in the local position 
necessary for receiving sensible impressions from them. 

We now come to the case of Belief in testimony. But 
testimony is not itself an object of belief. The object of belief 
is what the testimony asserts. And so in the last of the 
author s three cases, that of assent to a proposition. The 
object of belief^ in both these cases, is an assertion. But an 
assertion is something asserted, and what is asserted must be 
a fact, similar to some of those of which we have already 
treated. According to the author, belief in an assertion is 
belief that two names are both of them names of the same 
thing : but this we have felt ourselves obliged to discard, as an 
inadequate explanation of the import of any assertions, except 
those which are classed as merely verbal. Every assertion 
concerning Things, whether in concrete or in abstract language, 
is an assertion that some fact, or group of facts, has been, is, 
or may be expected to be, found, wherever a certain other fact, 
or group of facts, is found. Belief in this, is therefore either 
remembrance that we did have, or expectation that we shall 
have, or a belief of the same nature with expectation that in 

VOL. I. S E 



418 BELIEF. [chap. XI. 

some given circumstances we should have, or should have had, 
direct perception of a particular fact. Belief, therefore, is 
always a case either of Memory or of Expectation ; including 
under the latter name conditional as well as positive expecta- 
tion, and the state of mind similar to expectation which affects 
us in regard to what would have been a subject of expectation, 
if the conditions of its realization had still been possible. 

It may be objected, that we may believe in the real existence 
of things which are not objects of sense at all. We may. 
But we cannot believe in the real existence of anything which 
we do not conceive as capable of acting in some way upon our 
own or some other being's consciousness ; though the state of 
consciousness it produces may not be called a sensation. The 
existence of a thing means, to us, merely its capacity of pro- 
ducing an impression of some sort upon some mind, that is, of 
producing some state of consciousness. The belief, therefore, 
in its existence, is still a conditional expectation of something 
which we should, under some supposed circumstances, be 
capable of feeling. 

To resume : Belief, as I conceive, is more than an insepa- 
rable association, for inseparable associations do not always 
generate belief, nor does belief always require, as one of its 
conditions, an inseparable association : we can believe that to 
be true which we are capable of conceiving or representing to 
ourselves as false, and false what we are capable of represeutiog 
to ourselves as true. The difference between belief and mere 
imagination, is the difference between recoguising something as a 
reality in nature, and regarding it as a mere thought of our own. 
This is the difference which presents itself when Memory has to 
be distinguished from Imagination; and again when Expectation, 
whether positive or contingent (i.e. whether it be expectation that 
we shall, or only persuasion that in certain definable circum- 
stances we should, have a certain experience) has to be distin- 
guished from the mere mental conception of that experience. 

III. 

Let us examine, once more, whether the speculations in the 
text afford us any means of further analysing this difference. 




it 



CHAP. XI.] BELIEF. 419 

The difference presents itself in its most elementary form in 
the distinction betwe^ a sensation and an idea. The author 
admits this distinction to be ultimate and primordial. ** A 

sensation is different from an idea, only because it is felt to be 

different.'* But, after having admitted that these two states of 
consciousness are distinguishable from each other in and by 
themselves, he adds, that they are also distinguishable by 
their accompaniments. *' The accompaniments of a sensation 

" are always generically different from those of an idea 

** The accompaniments of a sensation, are all the simultaneous 
** objects of sensation, together with all those which, to a cer- 
*' tain extent, both preceded and followed it. The accompani- 
*' ments of an idea are not the simultaneous objects of sensation, 
** but other ideas ; namely, the neighbouring facts, antecedent 
** and consequent, of the mental train." There can be no 
doubt that in those individual cases in which ideas and sensa- 
tions might be confounded, namely, when an idea reaches or 
approaches the vivacity of a sensation, the indication here 
pointed out helps to assure us that what we are conscious of 
is, nevertheless, only an idea. When, for instance, we awake 
from a dream, and open our eyes to the outward world, what 
makes us so promptly recognise that this and not the other is 
the real world, is that we find its phenomena connected in the 
accustomed order of our objects of sensation. But though 
this circumstance enables us, in particular instances, to 
refer our impression more instantaneously to one or the 
other class, it cannot be by this that we distinguish ideas at 
first from sensations ; for the criterion supposes the distinc- 
tion to be already made. If we judge a sensation to be a sensa- 
tion because its accompaniments are other sensations, and an 
idea to be an idea because its accompaniments are other ideas, 
we must already be able to distinguish those other sensations 
from those other ideas. 

A similar remark is applicable to a criterion between sensa- 
tions and ideas, incidentally laid down by Mr. Bain in the 
First Part of his systematic treatise. "A mere picture or 
" idea remains the same whatever be our bodily position or 

E E 2 



420 BELIEF. [chap. XI. 

''bodily exertions; the sensation that we call the actual is 
" entirely at the mercy of our movemepts, shifting in every 
'' possible way according to the varieties of action that we go 
"through." {The Senses and the Intellect, 2nd ed. p. 381.) 
This test, like the author's, may serve in cases of momentary 
doubt ; but sensations in general must have been already dis- 
tinguished from ideas, before we could have hit upon this 
criterion between them. If we had not already known the 
difference between a sensation and an idea, we never could 
have discovered that one of them is " at the mercy of our 
movements," and that the other is not. 

It being granted that a sensation and an idea are ipso facto 
distinguishable, the author thinks it no more than natural that 
" the copy of the sensation should be distinguishable from the 
" revival of the idea, when they are both brought up by asso- 
" ciation." But he adds, that there is another distinction be- 
tween the memory of a sensation, and the memory of an idea, 
and it is this. In all Memory the idea of self forms part of 
the complex idea ; but in the memory of sensation, the self 
which enters into the remembrance is " the sentient self, that 

is, seeing and hearing :" in the memory of an idea, it is " not 

the sentient self, but the conceptive self, self having an idea. 

But" (he adds) " myself percipient, and myself imagining, or 
" conceiving, are two very different states of consciousness : of 
" course the ideas of these states of consciousness, or these 
" states revived by association, are very different ideas." 

Concemiug the fact there is no dispute. Myself percipient, 
and myself imagining or conceiving, are different states, 
because perceiving is a different thing from imagining ; and 
being different states, the remembrance of them is, as might be 
expected, different. But the question is, in what does the dif- 
ii?rence between the remembrances consist ? The author calls 
one of them the idea of myself perceiving, and the other the 
idea of myself imagining, and thinks there is no other difference. 
But how do the idea of myself having a sensation, and the 
idea of myself having an idea of that sensation, differ from 
one another ? since in either case an idea of the sensation is all 







CHAP. XI.] BELIEF. 421 

that I am having now. The thought of myself perceiving a 
thing at a former time, and the thought of myself imagining 
the thing at that former time, are hoth at the present moment 
facts of imagination — are now merely ideas. In each case I 
have an ideal representation of myself, as conscious in a man- 
ner very similar in the two cases ; though not exactly the same, 
since in the one case I remember to have been conscious of a 
sensation, in the other, to have been conscious only of an idea 
of that sensation : but, in either case, that past consciousness 
enters only as an idea, into the consciousness I now have by 
recollection. In what, then, as far as mere ideas are concerned, 
do my present mental representations of the two cases differ ? 
Will it be said, that the idea of the sensation is one thing, 
the idea of the idea of the sensation another thing ? Or are 
they both the same idea, namely, the idea of the sensation ; and 
is the element that is present in the one case, but absent in 
the other, not an idea but something else ? A difference there 
is admitted to be between the remembrance of having had a 
sensation, and the remembrance of having merely thought of 
the sensation, i.e. had the idea of it : is this difference a dif- 
ference in the ideas I have in the two cases, or is the idea the 
same, but accompanied in the one case by something not an 
idea, which does not exist in the*other ? for if so, this some- 
thing is a Belief. 

I have touched upon this question in a former note, and 
expressed my inability to recognise, in the idea of an idea, 
anything but the idea itself; in the thought of a thought, 
anything but a repetition of the thought. My thought of Fal- 
staff, as far as I can perceive, is not a copy but a repetition of 
the thought I had of him when I first read Shakespeare : not 
indeed an exact repetition, because all complex ideas undergo 
modification by time, some elements fading away, and new 
ones being added by reverting to the original sources or by 
subsequent associations ; but my first mental image of Falstaff, 
and my present one, do not differ as the thought of a rose 
differs from the sight of one ; as an idea of sensation differs 
from the sensation. On this point the author was perhaps of 




422 BKIJRF. [chap. XI. 

the same opinion, since we found hira contrasting the '' copy" 
of the sensation with the '" reyival" of the idea, as if the 
latter was a case of simple repetition, the former not It 
would have been well if he had made this point a subject of 
express discussion ; for if his opinion upon it was what, firom 
this passage, we may suppose it to have been, it involves a 
serious difficulty. If (he says) a sensation and an idea '' are 
** distinguishable in the having, it is likely that the copy of 
** the sensation should be distinguishable firom the revival of 
** the idea." But the copy of the sensation is the idea ; so that, 
on this shewing, the idea is distinguishable from its own re- 
vival, that is, firom the same idea when it occurs again. The 
author's theory would thus require him to maintain that an 
idea revived is a specifically different idea, and not the same idea 
repeated : since otherwise the two states of mind, so far as re- 
gards the ideas contained in them, are undistinguishable, and 
it is necessary to admit the presence in Memory of some other 
element 

Let us put another case. Instead of Falstaff, suppose a 
real person whom I have seen : for example Oeneral Lafayette. 
My idea of Lafayette is almost wholly, what my idea of Fal- 
staff is entirely, a creation of thought : only a very small por- 
tion of it is derived firom nfy brief experience of seeing and 
conversing with him. But I have a remembrance of having 
seen Lafayette, and no remembrance of having seen Falstaff, 
but only of having thought of him. Is it a sufficient explana- 
tion of this difference to say, that I have an idea of myself 
seeing and hearing Lafayette, and only an idea of myself 
thinking of Falstaff? But I can form a vivid idea of myself 
seeing and hearing Falstaff. I can without difficulty imagine 
myself in the field of Shrewsbury, listening to his charac- 
teristic soliloquy over the body of Hotspur ; or in the tavern 
in the midst of his associates, hearing his story of his encounter 
with the men in buckram. YHien I recal the scene, I can as 
little detach it firom the idea of myself as present as I can in 
the case of most things of which I was really an eye-witness. 
The spontaneous presence of the idea of Myself in the con- 



CHAP. XI.] BELIEF. 42S 

oeption, is always that of myself as percipient. The idea of 
myself as in a state of mere imagination, only substitutes 
itself for the other when something reminds me that the scene 
is merely imaginary. 

I cannot help thinking, therefore, that there is in the remem- 
brance of a real fact, as distinguished from that of a thonght, 
an element which does not consist, as the author supposes, in 
a difference between the mere ideas which are present to the 
mind in the two cases. This element, howsoever we define it, 
cpnstitutes Belief, and is the difference between Memory and 
Imagination. From whatever direction we approach, this dif- 
ference seems to close our path. When we arrive at it, we 
seem to have reached, as it were, the central point of our intel- 
lectual nature, presupposed and built upon in every attempt 
we make to explain the more recondite phenomena of our 
mental being. — Ed, 



424 RATIOCINATION. [CHAP. XII. 



CHAPTER XII. 



RATIOCINATION. 

*' It would afford great light and cleameas to the art of Logic, 
to determine the precise nature and composition of the ideas 
affixed to those words which have complex ideas; t.^., which 
excite any comhinations of simple ideas, united intimately by 
association." — Sartley, Prop. 12, Corol. 8. 

Eatiocination is one of the most complicated of 
all the mental phenomena. And it is worthy of 
notice, that more was accomplished towards the 
analysis of it, at an early period in the history of 
intellectual improvement, than of any other of the 
complex cases of human consciousness. 

It was fully explained by Aristotle, that the simplest 
case of Batiocination consists of three propositions, 
which he called a syllogism. A piece of ratiocination 
may consist of one, or more syllogisms, to any ex- 
tent ; but every single step is a syllogism. 

A ratiocination, then, or syllogism, is first resolved 
into three propositions. The following may be taken 
as one of the simplest of all examples. '^ All men are 
animals : kings are men : therefore kings are animals." 

Next, the Proposition is resolved into its proximate 
elements. These are three \ two Terms, one called 
tlio Subject, the other the Predicate, and the Copula. 




CHAP, xn.] RATIOCINATION. 425 

What is the particular nature of each of these elements 
we have already seen, and here, therefore, need not 
stay to inquire. 

The ancient writers on Logic proceeded in their 
analysis, no farther than Terms. After this, they 
only endeavoured to enumerate and classify terms ; to 
enumerate and classify propositions ; to enumerate and 
classify syllogisms ; and to give the rules for making 
correct syllogisms, and detecting incorrect ones. And 
this, as taught by them, constituted the whole science 
and art of Logic. 

What, under this head, we propose to explain, is — 
the process of association involved in the syllogism, 
and in the belief which is part of it. 

That part of the process which is involved in the 
two antecedent propositions, called the premises, has 
been already explained. It is only, therefore, the 
third proposition, called the conclusion, which further 
requires exposition. 

We have seen, that in the proposition, " All men 
are animals,'' Belief is merely the recognition that the 
meaning of the term, " all men," is included in that 
of the term "animals," and that the recognition is a 
case of association. In the proposition also, " kings 
are men," the belief is merely the recognition, that the 
individuals named " kings," are part of tlie many, of 
whom " men," is the common name. This has already 
been more than once explained. And now, therefore, 
remains only to be shewn what further is involved in 
the third proposition, or conclusion, "kings are 
animals." 

In each of the two preceding propositions, two 
terms or names are compared. In the last proposi- 



426 RATIOCINATION. IcUAIP. XH. 

tion, a third name is compared with both the other 
two ; immediately with the one, and, through that, 
with the other ; the whole, obviously, a complicated 
case of association. 

In the first proposition, " all men are animals," the 
term, '' all men,'' is compared with the term animals ; 
in other words, a certain association, already ex- 
pounded, takes place. In the second proposition, 
*' kings are men/' the term '^ kings," is compared 
with the term «aU men;" comparison here, again, 
being only a name for a particular case of association. 
In the third proposition, ''kings are animals," the 
name '' kings," is compared with the name '' animals," 
but mediately through the name, " all men." Thus, 
" kings," is associated with " all men," " all men,*' 
with " animals ;" " kings," therefore, with " animals," 
by a complicated, and, at the same time, a rapid, and 
almost imperceptible process. It would be easy to 
mark the steps of the association. But this would be 
tedious, and after so much practice, the reader will be 
at no loss to set them down for himself.^^ 



^^ This chapter, which is of a very summary character, is 
a prolongation of the portion of the chapter on Belief, which 
examines the case of belief in the truth of a proposition ; and 
must stand or fall with it. The question considered is, how, 
from belief in the truth of the two premises of a syllogism, 
we pass into belief in the conclusion. The exposition proceeds 
on the untenable theory of the import of propositions, on 
which I have so often had occasion to comment. That theory^ 
however, was not necessary to the author for shevdng how two 
ideas may become inseparably associated through the insepa- 
rable association of each of them with a third idea : and inas- 
much as an inseparable association between the subject and 



CHAP. XII.] RATIOCINATION. 427 

predicate, in the author's opinion, constitutes helief, an ex- 
planation of ratiocination conformahle to that given of belief 
follows as a matter of course. 

Although I am unable to admit that there is nothing in 
belief but an inseparable association, and although I maintain 
that there may be belief without an inseparable association, I 
can still accept this explanation of the formation of an associa- 
tion between the subject and predicate of the conclusion, which, 
when close and intense, has, as we have seen, a strong ten- 
dency to generate belief. But to shew what it is that gives 
the belief its validity, we must fall back on logical laws, the 
laws of evidence. And independently of the question of vali- 
dity, we shall find in the reliance on those laws, so far as they 
are understood, the source and origin of all beliefs, whether 
well or ill founded, which are not the almost mechanical or 
automatic products of a strong association— of the lively 
suggestion of an idea. We may therefore pass at once to 
the nature of Evidence, which is the subject of the next 
chapter. 

I venture to refer, in passing, to those chapters in my System 
of Logic, in which I have maintained, contrary to what is laid 
down in this chapter, that Batiocination does not coruAat of 
Syllogisms ; that the Syllogism is not the analysis of what the 
mind does in reasoning, but merely a useful formula into which 
it can translate its reasonings, gaining thereby a great increase 
in the security for their correctness. — Ed. 



428 EVIDENCE. [chap. XIII. 



CHAPTER XIII. 



EVIDENCE, 

'' In coDsequence of some very wonderful laws, which regulate 
the suGcessionB of our mental phenomena, the science of mind is, 
in all its most important respects, a science of analysis." — 
Broum*s Lect,y i., IQB. 

Before leaving the subject of Belief, it will be 
proper to shew, in a few words, what is included, 
under the name Evidence. Evidence, is either the 
same thing with Belief, or it is the antecedent, of 
which Belief is the consequent. 

Belief we have seen to be of two sorts : Belief of 
events ; BeUef of propositions. 

Of events, believed on our own experience, the 
evidence of the present is sense ; of the past, memory; 
and in these cases, the evidence and the belief are not 
two things, but one and the same thing. The lamp, 
which at this moment lights me, I say that I see 
burning, and that I believe it burning. These are 
two names of one and the same state of consciousness. 
— " I remember it was burning at the same hour last 
night," and " I believe it was burning at the same 
hour last night," are also two expressions for the 
same thing. — In the simple anticipation of the future, 
from the past, also, the evidence, and the belief, are 



CHAP. XIII.] EVIDENCE. 429 

not two things, but one and the same thing. There 
is a close and inseparable association of the idea of a 
like antecedent, with the idea of a like consequent. 
This has not a single name, like memory ; but, like 
memory, it is both evidence and belief. 

The case of testimony is diflferent. The Testimony 
is one thing, the Belief is another. The name Evi- 
dence is given to the testimony. The association of 
the testimony, with the event testified, is the belief 

Beside the belief of events which are the immediate 
objects of sense, of memory, and of anticipation (the 
consequence of sense and memory), and of those 
which are the immediate objects of testimony ; there 
is a belief of events which are not the immediate 
objects of any of those operations. The sailor, who 
is shipwrecked on an unknown coast, sees the prints 
of a man's foot on the sand. The print of the foot is 
here called the evidence ; the association of the print, 
as consequent, with a man, as antecedent, is called 
the belief. In this case, the sensation of one event, 
the print of a foot on the sand, induces the belief of 
another event, the existence of a man. The sailor 
who has seen the mark, reports it to his companions 
who have not quitted the wreck. Instantly they 
have the same belief; but it is a remove farther oflF, 
and there is an additional link of evidence. The first 
event to them, is the affirmation of their companion ; 
the second, the existence of the print ; the third, that 
of the man. There is here evidence of evidence ; the 
testimony, evidence of the print ; the print, evidence 
of the man. 

The companions of the sailor, having themselves 
gone on shore, perceive, indeed, no man, but see a 



4S0 KVIDSNCE. [chap. XIH. 

large monkey, which leaves prints on the sand very 
much resembling those which had first been per- 
ceived by their companion. What is now the state 
of their minds? Doubt. But doubt is a name; 
what do we call by that name ? A phenomenon of 
some complexity, but of which the elements are not 
very difficult to trace. There is, here, a double asso- 
ciation with the print of the foot. There is the asso- 
ciation of a man, and there is the association of a 
monkey. First, the print raises the idea of a man, 
but the instant it does so, it raises also the idea of a 
monkey. The idea of the monkey, displacing that of 
the man, hinders the first association from the fixity 
which makes it belief ; and the idea of man, displacing 
that of monkey, hinders the second association from 
that fixity which constitutes belief. 

When evidence is complex; that is, consists of 
more than one event ; the events may be all on the 
same side, or not all on the same side; that is, 
they may all tend to prove the same event ; or some 
of them may tend to prove it, some may have an 
opposite tendency. 

Thus, if after discovering the print on the sand, 
the sailors had seen near it a stick, which had any 
appearance of having been fashioned into a club, or a 
spear, — ^this would have been another event, tending, 
as well as the print on the sand, to the belief of the 
presence of men. The evidence would have been 
complex, but all on one side. The process is easy to 
trace. There is now a double association with the 
existence of men. The print of the foot excites that 
idea, the existence of the club excites that idea. This 
double excitement gives greater permanence to ihe 



CHAP. XIII.] EVIDENCE. 431, 

idea. By repetition, the two exciting causes coalesce^ 
and, by their united strength, call up the associated 
idea with greater force. 

In the case of the appearance of the monkey, in 
which one of the events tended to one belief, the 
other to another, we have just seen that the eflfect is 
precisely contrary; to lessen the strength of the 
association with the existence of a man, and to hinder 
its becoming belief. 

These expositions may be applied with ease to the 
other cases of complex evidence, which can only con- 
sist of a greater or less number of events, either all 
tending to the belief of the same event, or some tend- 
ing that way, some another; but all operating in 
the manner which has just been pointed out. Thus 
we may complicate the present case still further, by 
the supposition of additional events. After the ap-* 
pearance of the monkey, the sailors may discover, in 
the neighbourhood, the vestiges of a recent fire, and 
of the victuals which had been cooked by it. The 
association of human beings with these appearances is 
so strong, that, combined with the association between 
the print and the same idea, it quite obscures the 
association between the print and the monkey ; and 
the belief that the place has inhabitant's becomes 
complete. But suppose, further; that afber a little 
observation, they discover an English knife, and fork, 
and a piece of English earthenware near the same 
place. The idea of an English ship having touched 
at the place, is immediately excited, and all the evi- 
dence of local inhabitants, derived from the marks of 
fire and cookery, is immediately destroyed. In other 
words, a new association, that with an English ship. 



A 



432 EVIDENCE. [chap. XIII. 

is created, which completely supersedes the idea, 
formerly associated, that of inhabitants existing on 
the spot. 

The whole of the events, which go in this manner 
to form a case of belief, or of doubt, or of disbelief, 
are called Evidence. And the association, ' which 
binds them together into a sort of whole, as antece- 
dent, and connects with them the event to which they 
apply as consequent, and which constitutes the belief, 
doubt, or disbelief, very often goes by the names of 
"judgment," "judging of the evidence," " weighing 
the evidence," and so on. 

In these cases of the belief of Events upon com- 
plicated evidence, there is an antecedent and a con- 
sequent ; the antecedent consisting of all the events 
which are called evidence, the consequent of the event, 
or events evidenced ; and lastly, there is that close 
association of the antecedent and the consequent, 
which we have seen already, in so many instances, 
constitutes belief. 

We have now to consider, what we call evidence in 
the case of the Belief of Propositions. 

There are two cases of the Belief of propositions. 
There is belief in the case of the single proposition ; 
and there is belief of the conclusion of a syllogism, 
which is the result of a combination of Propositions. 

We have seen what the process of belief in Propo- 
sitions is. The subject and predicate, two names for 
the same thing, of which the predicate is either of the 
same extent with the subject, or of a greater extent, 
suggest, each of them, its meaning ; that is, call up, 
by association, each of them, its peculiar cluster of 
ideas. Two clusters of ideas are called up in con- 



CHAP. XII.] EVIDENCE. 433 

nexion, and that a peculiar connexion, marked by the 
copula. To have two clusters of ideas, to know that 
they are two, and to believe that they are two, this is 
nothing more than three expressions for the same 
thing. To know that two clusters are two clusters, 
and to know that they are either the same, or diffe- 
rent, is the same with having them. In this case, 
then, as in that of the belief of events, in sense and 
memory, the beUef and the evidence are the same thing. 
Belief of the conclusion of a syllogism, is preceded 
by two other beliefs. There is belief of the major 
proposition ; belief of the minor proposition ; by the 
process immediately above explained, in which the 
evidence and the belief are the same thing. These 
are the antecedent. There is, thirdly, belief of the 
conclusion, this is the consequent. The process of 
this belief has been so recently explained, that I do 
not think we need to repeat it. In this case, it is 
sometimes said, that the two premises are the evi- 
dence ; sometimes it is said, that the ratiocination is 
the evidence ; in the former of these applications of 
the word evidence, the belief of the concluding pro- 
position of the syllogism is not included ; in the last, 
it is. The ratiocination is the belief of all the three 
propositions ; and, in this acceptation of the word, the 
evidence and the belief are not considered as two 
things, but one and the same thing. This, however, 
is only a difference of naming. About the particulars 
named, there is no room for dispute."" 



^^^ This chapter on Evidence is supplementary to the chapter 
on Belief, and is intended to analyse the process of weighing 
and balancing opposing grounds for believing. 

VOL. I. F F 



434 SYIDXNCS. [chap. xn. 

Evidence is either of iodividual facts (not actually perceived 
by oneself), or of general truths. The former is the only case 
to which much attention is paid in the present chapter ; which 
very happily illustrates it, by the case of navigators having to 
decide on the existence or non-existence of inhabitants in a 
newly discovered island. The process of balancing the evi- 
dence for and against, is depicted in a very lively manner. Let 
us see whether the mental facts set down in the exposition, are 
precisely those which take place. 

When the sailors have seen prints of a foot, resembling those 
of a man, the idea is raised of a man making the print. When 
they afterwards see a monkey, whose feet leave traces almost 
similar, the idea is also raised of a monkey making the print, 
and the state of their minds, the author says, is doubt. Of 
this state he gives the following analysis. '* There is here a 
*' double association with the print of the foot. There is the 
*' association of a man, and there is the association of a 
** monkey. Firsts the print raises the idea of a man, but the 
*' instant it does so, it raises also the idea of a monkey. The 
'' idea of the monkey, displacing that of the man, hinders the 
'' first association from the fixity which makes it belief ; and 
'' the idea of man, displacing that of monkey, hinders the 
" second association from that fi2dty which constitutes belief." 
This passage deserves to be studied ; for without having 
carefully weighed it, we cannot be certain that we are in com- 
plete possession of the author's theory of Belief. 

There are two conflicting associations with the print of the 
foot. The picture of a man making it, cannot co-exist with 
that of a monkey making it. But the two may alternate with 
one another. Had the association with a man been the only 
association, it would, or might (for on this point the author is 
not explicit) have amounted to belief. But the idea of the 
monkey and that of the man alternately displacing one another, 
hinder either association from having the fixity which would 
make it belief. 

This alternation, however, between the two ideas, of a 
monkey making the footprint and of a man making it, may 



CHAP. XII.] EVIDSNCS. 435 

very well take place without hindering one of the two from 
being accompanied by belief. Suppose the sailors to obtain 
conclusive evidence, testimonial or circumstantial, that the 
prints were made by a monkey. It may happen, nevertheless, 
that the remarkable resemblance of the foot prints to those of 
a man, does not cease to force itself upon their notice : in 
other words^ they continue to associate the idea of a man with 
the footsteps; they are reminded of a man, and of a man 
making the footsteps, every time they see or think of them. 
The double association, therefore, may subsist, and the one 
which does not correspond with the fact may even be the most 
obtrusive of the two, while yet the other conception may be 
the one with which the men believe the real facts to have 
corresponded. 

All the rest of the exposition is open to the same criticism. 
The author accounts very accurately for the presence of all 
the ideas which the successive appearance of the various articles 
of evidence arouses in the mind. But he does not shew that 
the belief, which is ultimately arrived at, is constituted by the 
expulsion from the mind of one set of these ideas, and the 
exclusive possession of it by the other set. It is quite pos- 
sible that neither of the associations may acquire the " fixity*' 
which, according to the apparent meaning of the author, 
would defeat the other association altogether, and drive away 
the conception which it suggests ; and yet, one of the sup- 
positions may be believed and the other disbelieved, according 
to the balance of evidence, as estimated by the investigator. 
Belief, then, which has been already shewn not to require an 
inseparable association, appears not to require even " fixity" — 
such fixity as to exclude the idea of the conflicting supposi- 
tion, as it does exclude the belief. 

The problem of Evidence divides itself into two distinguish- 
able enquiries: what effect evidence ought to produce, and 
what determines the effect that it does produce : how our 
belief ought to be regulated, and how, in point of fact, it is 
regulated. The first enquiry — that into the nature and proba- 
tive force of evidence ; the discussion of what proves what, and 



436 EVIDENCS. [chap. xn. 

of tbe precautions needed in admitting one thing as proof of 
another — are the province of Logic, understood in its widest 
sense : and for its treatment we must refer to treatises on Logic, 
either inductive or ratioci native. All that would be in place 
here, reduces itself to a single principle : In all cases, except 
tbe case of what we are directly conscious of (in which case, 
as the author justly observes, the evidence and the belief are 
one and the same thing) — in all cases, therefore, in which 
belief is really grounded on evidence, it is grounded, in the 
ultimate result, on the constancy of the course of nature. 
Whether the belief be of facts or of laws, and whether of past 
facts or of those which are present or future, this is the basis 
on which it rests. Whatever it is that we believe, the justifi- 
cation of the belief must be, that unless it were true, the 
uniformity of the course of nature would not be maintained. 
A cause would have occurred, not followed by its invariable 
effect ; an effect would have occurred, not preceded by any of its 
invariable causes ; witnesses would have lied, who have always 
been known to speak the truth ; signs would have proved de- 
ceptive, which in human experience have always given true indi- 
cation. This is obvious, whatever case of belief on evidence 
we examine. Belief in testimony is grounded on previous 
experience that testimony is usually conformable to fact: 
testimony in general (for even this may with truth be affirmed) ; 
or the testimony of the particular witness, or the testimony of 
persons similar to him. Belief that the sun will rise and set 
to-morrow, or that a stone thrown up into the air will fall back, 
rests on experience that this has been invariably the case, and 
reliance that what has hitherto occurred will continue to occur 
hereafter. Belief in a fact vouched for by circumstantial 
evidence, rests on experience that such circumstances as are 
ascertained to exist in the case, never exist unaccompanied by 
the given fact. What we call evidence, whether complete or 
incomplete, always consists of facts or events tending to con- 
vince us that some ascertained general truths or laws of nature 
must have proved false, if the conclusion which the evidence 
points to is not true. 



CHAP. XII.] EVIDENCE. 487 

Belief on evideDce is therefore always a case of the gene- 
ralizing process ; of the assumption that what we have not 
directly experienced resembles, or will resemble, our experience. 
And, properly understood, this assumption is true ; for the 
whole course of nature consists of a concurrence of causes, pro- 
ducing their effects in a uniform manner; but the uniformity 
which exists is often not that which our first impressions lead 
us to expect. Mr. Bain has well pointed out, that the gene- 
ralizing propensity, in a mind not disciplined by thought, nor 
as yet warned by its own failures, far outruns the evidence, or 
rather, precedes any conscious consideration of evidence ; and 
that what the consideration of evidence has to do when it 
comes, is not so much to make us generalize, as to limit our 
spontaneous impulse of generalization, and restrain within just 
bounds our readiness to believe that the unknown will resemble 
the known. When Mr. Bain occasionally speaks of this pro- 
pensity as if it were instinctive, I understand him to mean, that 
by an original law of our nature, the mere suggestion of an 
idea, so long as the idea keeps possession of the mind, suffices 
to give it a command over our active energies. It is to this 
primitive mental state that the author s theory of Belief most 
nearly applies. In a mind which is as yet untutored, either by 
the teachings of others or by its own mistakes, an idea so 
strongly excited as for the time to keep out all ideas by which 
it would itself be excluded, possesses that power over the 
voluntary activities which is Mr. Bain's criterion of Belief; 
and any association that compels the person to have the idea 
of a certain consequence as following his act, generates, or 
becomes, a real expectation of that consequence. But these ex- 
pectations often tumingout to have been ill grounded, the unduly 
prompt suggestion comes to be associated, by repetition, with 
the shock of disappointed expectation ; and the idea of the 
desired consequent is now raised together with the idea not of 
its realization, but of its frustration: thus neutralizing the 
effect of the first association on the belief and on the active 
impulses. It is in this stage that the mind learns the habit of 
looking out for, and weighing, evidence. It presently discovers 



438 EVIDBNCB. [chap. XH. 

that the expectations which are least often disappointed are 
those which correspond to the greatest and most varied amount 
of antecedent experience. It gradually comes to associate the 
feeling of disappointed expectation with all those promptings 
to expect, which, being the result of accidental associations, 
have no, or but little, previous experience conformable to 
them : and by degrees the expectation only arises when me- 
mory represents a considerable amount of such previous expe- 
rience ; and is strong in proportion to the quantity of the 
experience. At a still later period, as disappointment 
nevertheless not unfrequently happens notwithstanding a 
considerable amount of past experience on the side of the 
expectation, the mind is put upon making distinctions in the 
kind of past experiences, and finding out what qualities, be- 
sides mere frequency, experience must have, in order not to be 
followed by disappointment. In other words, it considers the 
conditions of right inference from experience ; and by degrees 
arrives at principles or rules, more or less accurate, for induc- 
tive reasoning. This is substantially the doctrine of the author 
of the Analysis. It must be conceded to him, that an associa- 
tion, sufficiently strong to exclude all ideas that would exclude 
itself, produces a kind of mechanical belief; and that the 
processes by which this belief is corrected, or reduced to 
rational bounds, all consist in the growth of a counter-asso- 
ciation, tending to raise the idea of a disappointment of the 
first expectation : and as the one or the other prevails in the 
particular case, the belief, or expectation, exists or does not 
exist, exactly as if the belief were the same thing with the 
association. It must also be admitted that the process by 
which the belief is overcome, takes effect by weakening the 
association ; which can only be effected by raising up another 
association that conflicts with it. There are two ways in 
which this counter-association may be generated. One is, by 
counter-evidence ; by contrary experience in the specific case, 
which, by associating the circumstances of the case with a 
contrary belief, destroys their association with the original belief. 
But there is abo another mode of weakening, or altogether 



CHAP. ZII.] EVIDENCE. 489 

destroying, the belief, without adducing contrary experience : 
namely, by merely recognising the insufficiency of the existing 
experience; by reflecting on other instances in which the 
same amount and kind of experience have existed, but were 
not followed by the expected result. In the one mode as in 
the other, the process of dissolving a belief is identical with 
that of dissolving an association ; and to this extent — and it is a 
very large extent — the authors theory of Belief must be received 
as true. 

I cannot, however, go beyond this, and maintain with the 
author that Belief is identical with a strong association ; on ac- 
count of the reason already stated, viz. that in many cases — 
indeed in almost all cases in which the evidence has been such 
as required to be investigated and weighed — a final belief is 
arrived at without any such clinging together of ideas as the 
author supposes to constitute it ; and we remain able to re- 
present to ourselves in imagination, often with perfect facility, 
both the conflicting suppositions, of which we nevertheless 
believe one and reject the other. — Ed, 



440 TEE PSTCHOUMJICAI. THSOKT OF THS 



APPENDIX. 



(From "An Examinatiait of iHr WilUam HamiUon's 

PkUoMoipl^:') 

THE PSTCHOLOGICAL THSOKT OF THE BELIEF 
IN AN EXTERNAL WORLD. 

Ws have seen Sir W. Hamilton at work on the question of 
the reality of Matter, by the introspectiye method, and, as it 
seems, with little result. Let us now approach the same sub- 
ject by the psychological. I proceed, therefore, to state the 
case of those who hold that the belief in an external world is 
not intuitive, but an acquired product. 

This theory postulates the following psychological truths, 
all of which are proved by experience, and are not contested, 
though their force is seldom adequately felt, by Sir W. 
Hamilton and the other thinkers of the introspective school. 

It postulates, first, that the human mind is capable of Ex- 
pectation. In other words, that after having had actual 
sensations, we are capable of forming the conception of Possible 
sensations ; sensations which we are not feeling at the present 
moment, but which we might feel, and should feel if certain 
conditions were present, the nature of which conditions we 
have, in many cases, learnt by experience. 

It postulates, secondly, the laws of the Association of Ideas. 
So far as we are here concerned, these laws are the following : 
1st. Similar phflBuomena tend to be thought of together. 2nd. 
Phcenomena which have either been experienced or conceived 




BELIEF IN AN EXTERNAL WORLD. 441 

in close contiguity to one another, tend to be thought of 
together. The contiguity is of two kinds ; simultaneity, and 
immediate succession. Facts which have been experienced or 
thought of simultaneously, recall the thought of one another. 
Of facts which have been experienced or thought of in im- 
mediate succession, the antecedent, or the thought of it, recalls 
the thought of the consequent, but not conversely. 3rd. As- 
sociations produced by contiguity become more certain and 
rapid by repetition. When two phsenomena have been very 
often experienced in conjunction, and have not, in any single 
instance, occurred separately either in experience or in thought, 
there is produced between them what has been called Insepa- 
rable, or less correctly. Indissoluble Association : by which is 
not meant that the association must inevitably last to the end 
of life — that no subsequent experience or process of thought 
can possibly avail to dissolve it ; but only that as long as no 
such experience or process of thought has taken place, the 
association is irresistible ; it is impossible for us to think the 
one thing disjoined from the other. 4th. When an association 
has acquired this character of inseparability — when the bond 
between the two ideas has been thus firmly riveted, not only 
does the idea called up by association become, in our consci- 
ousness, inseparable from the idea which suggested it, but the 
facts or phsenomena answering to those ideas come at last to 
seem inseparable in existence : things which we are unable to 
conceive apart, appear incapable of existing apart; and the 
belief we have in their co-existence, though really a product 
of experience, seems intuitive. Innumerable examples might 
be given of this law. One of the most familiar, as well as the 
most striking, is that of our acquired perceptions of sight. 
Even those who, with Mr. Bailey, consider the perception of 
distance by the eye as not acquired, but intuitive, admit that 
there are many perceptions of sight which, though instan- 
taneous and unhesitating, are not intuitive. What we see is a 
very minute fragment of what we think we see. We see arti- 
ficially that one thing is hard, another soft. We see artificially 
that one thing is hot, another cold. We see artificially that 



442 THE PSTCHOLOGICAL THEORT OF THE 

what we see is a book, or a stone, each of these being not 
merely an inference, but a heap of inferences, from the signs 
which we see, to things not visible. We see, and cannot help 
seeing, what we have learnt to infer, even when we know that 
the inference is erroneous, and that the apparent perception is 
deceptive. We cannot help seeing the moon larger when near 
the horizon, though we know that she is of precisely her usual 
size. We cannot help seeing a mountain as nearer to us and 
of less height, when we see it through a more than ordinarily 
transparent atmosphere. 

Setting out from these premises, the Psychological Theory 
maintains, that there are associations naturally and even 
necessarily generated by the order of our sensations and of 
our reminiscences of sensation, which, supposing no intuition 
of an external world to have existed in consciousness, would 
inevitably generate the belief, and would cause it to be regarded 
as an intuition. 

What is it we mean, or what is it which leads us to say^ that 
the objects we perceive are external to us, and not a part of 
our own thoughts ? We mean, that there is concerned in our 
perceptions something which exists when we are not thinking 
of it ; which existed before we had ever thought of it, and 
would exist if we were annihilated ; and further, that there 
exist things which we never saw, touched, or otherwise per- 
ceived, and things which never have been perceived by man. 
This idea of something which is distinguished from our fleeting 
impressions by what, in Kantian language, is called Perdura- 
bility ; something which is fixed and the same, while our 
impressions vary; something which exists whether we are 
aware of it or not, and which is always square (or of some other 
given figure) whether it appears to us square or round— con- 
stitutes altogether our idea of external substance. Whoever 
can assign an origin to this complex conception, has accounted 
for what we mean by the belief in matter. Now ail this, 
according to the Psychological Theory, is but the form im- 
pressed by the known laws of association, upon the conception 
or notion, obtained by experience, of Contingent Sensations ; 




BELIEF IN AN EXTERNAL WORLD. 448 

by which are meant, sensatious that are not in oar present 
consciousness, and individually never were in our consciousness 
at all, but which in virtue of the laws to which we have learnt 
by experience that our sensations are subject, we know that we 
should have felt under given supposable circumstances, and 
under these same circumstances, might still feel. 

I see a piece of white paper on a table. I go into another 
room. If the pheBnomenon always followed me, or if, when it 
did not follow me, I believed it to disappear i rerum naturd, 
I should not believe it to be an external object. I should 
consider it as a phantom — a mere affection of my senses : I 
should not believe that there had been any Body there. But, 
though I have ceased to see it, I am persuaded that the paper 
is still there. I no longer have the sensations which it gave 
me ; but I believe that when I again place myself in the cir- 
cumstances in which I had those sensations, that is, when I go 
again into the room, I shall again have them ; and further, 
that there has been no intervening moment at which this would 
not have been the case. Owing to this property of my mind, 
my conception of the world at any given instant consists, in 
only a small proportion, of present sensations. Of these I may 
at the time have none at all, and they are in any case a most 
insignificant portion of the whole which I apprehend. The 
conception I form of the world existing at any moment, com- 
prises, along with the sensations I am feeling, a countless 
variety of possibilities of sensation : namely, the whole of those 
which past observation tells me that I could, under any sup- 
posable circumstances, experience at this moment, together 
with an indefinite and illimitable multitude of others which 
though I do not know that I could, yet it is possible that I 
might, experience in circumstances not known to me. These 
various possibilities are the important thing to me in the 
world. My present sensations are generally of little impor- 
tance, and are moreover fugitive : the possibilities, on the 
contrary, are permanent, which is the character that mainly 
distinguishes our idea of Substance or Matter from our notion 
of sensation. These possibilities, which are conditional cer- 



444 THE PSTCH0L06ICAL THEORT Olf THE 

taiDties, need a special name to distinguish them from mere 
vague possibilitiesi which experience gives no warrant for 
reckoning upon. Now, as soon as a distinguishing name is 
given, though it be only to the same thing regarded in a dif- 
ferent aspect, one of the most familiar experiences of our 
mental nature teaches us, that the different name comes to be 
considered as the name of a different thing. 

There is another important peculiarity of these certified or 
guaranteed possibilities of sensation ; namely, that they have 
reference, not to single sensations, but to sensations joined 
together in groups. When we think of anything as a material 
substance, or body, we either have had, or we think that on 
some given supposition we should have, not some one sensa- 
tion, but a great and even an indefinite number and variety of 
sensations, generally belonging to different senses, but so 
linked together, that the presence of one announces the possible 
presence at the very same instant of any or all of the rest. In 
our mind, therefore, not only is this particular Possibility of 
sensation invested with the quality of permanence when we 
are not actually feeling any of the sensations at all ; but when 
we are feeling some of them, the remaining sensations of the 
group are conceived by us in the form of Present Possibilities, 
which might be realized at the very moment. And as this 
happens in turn to all of them, the group as a whole presents 
itself to the mind as permanent, in contrast not solely with the 
temporariness of my bodily presence, but also with the tem- 
porary character of each of the sensations composing the 
group ; in other words, as a kind of permanent substratum, 
under a set of passing experiences or manifestations : which is 
another leading character of our idea of substance or matter, 
as distinguished from sensation. 

Let us now take into consideration another of the general 
characters of our experience, namely, that in addition to fixed 
groups, we also recognise a fixed Order in our sensations ; an 
Order of succession, which, when ascertained by observation, 
gives rise to the ideas of Cause and Effect, according to what 
I bold to be the true theory of that relation, and is on any 




BELIEF IN AN EXTERNAL WORLD. 445 

theory the source of all our knowledge what causes produce 
what effects. Now, of what nature is this fixed order among 
our sensations ? It is a constancy of antecedence and sequence. 
But the constant antecedence and sequence do not generally 
exist between one actual sensation and another. Very few 
such sequences are presented to us by experience. In almost 
all the constant sequences which occur in Nature^ the antece- 
dence and consequence do not obtain between sensations, but 
between the groups we have been speaking about, of which a 
very small portion is actual sensation, the greater part being 
permanent possibilities of sensation, evidenced to us by a 
small and variable number of sensations actually present. 
Hence, our ideas of causation, power, activity, do not become 
connected in thought with our sensations as actual at all, save 
in the few physiological cases where these figure by themselves 
as the antecedents in some uniform sequence. Those ideas 
become connected, not with sensations, but with groups of 
possibilities of sensation. The sensations conceived do not, 
to our habitual thoughts, present themselves as sensations 
actually experienced, inasmuch as not only any one or any 
number of them may be supposed absent, but none of them 
need be present. We find that the modifications which are 
taking place more or less regularly in our possibilities of sen- 
sation, are mostly quite independent of our consciousness, and 
of our presence or absence. Whether we are asleep or awake 
the fire goes out, and puts an end to one particular possibility 
of warmth and light. Whether we are present or absent the 
com ripens, and brings a new possibility of food. Hence we 
speedily learn to think of Nature as made up solely of these 
groups of possibilities, and the active force in Nature as mani- 
fested in the modification of some of these by others. The 
sensations, though the original foundation of the whole, come 
to be looked upon as a sort of accident depending on us, and 
the possibilities as much more real than the actual sensations, 
nay, as the very realities of which these are only the represen- 
tations, appearances, or effects. When this state of mind has 
been arrived at, then, and from that time forward, we are never 



446 THB P8TCH0L00ICAL THBORT OF THE 

conscious of a present sensation without instantaneously re- 
ferring it to some one of the groups of possibilities into which 
a sensation of that particular description enters ; and if we do 
not yet know to what group to refer it, we at least feel an irre- 
sistible conviction that it must belong to some group or other ; 
i.e. that its presence proves the existence, here and now, of a 
great number and variety of possibilities of sensation, without 
which it would not have been. The whole set of sensations 
as possible, form a permanent back-groand to any one or 
more of them that are, at a given moment, actual ; and 
the possibilities are conceived as standing to the actual sensa- 
tions in the relation of a cause to its effects, or of canvas to 
the figures painted on it, or of a root to the trunk, leaves, and 
flowers, or of a substratum to that which is spread over it» or, 
in transcendental language, of Matter to Form. 

When this point has been reached, the Permanent Possibili- 
ties in question have assumed such unlikeness of aspect, and 
such difference of apparent relation to us, from any sensations, 
that it would be contrary to all we know of the constitution of 
human nature that they should not be conceived as, and 
believed to be, at least as different from sensations as sensa- 
tions are from one another. Their groundwork in sensation 
is forgotten, and they are supposed to be something intrinsically 
distinct from it. We can withdraw ourselves from any of our 
(external) sensations, or we can be withdrawn from them by 
some other agency. But though the sensations cease, the 
possibilities remain in existence ; they are independent of our 
will, our presence, and everything which belongs to us. We 
find, too, that they belong as much to other human or sentient 
beings as to ourselves. We find other people grounding their 
expectations and conduct upon the same permanent possibili- 
ties on which we ground ours. But we do not find them ex- 
periencing the same actual sensations. Other people do not 
have our sensations exactiy when and as we have them : but 
they have our possibilities of sensation ; whatever indicates a 
present possibility of sensations to ourselves, indicates a pre- 
sent possibility of similar sensations to them, except so far as 



BELIEF IN AN EXTERNAL WORLD. 447 

their organs of sensation may vary from the type of oars. 
This puts the final seal to our conception of the groups of 
possibilities as the fundamental reality in Nature. The per- 
manent possibilities are common to us and to our fellow- 
creatures ; the actual sensations are not. That which other 
people become aware of when, and on the same grounds, as I 
do, seems more real to me than that which they do not know 
of unless I tell them. The world of Possible Sensations suc- 
ceeding one another according to laws, is as much in other 
beings as it is in me ; it has therefore an existence outside me ; 
it is an External World. 

If this explanation of the origin and growth of the idea of 
Matter, or External Nature, contains nothing at variance with 
natural laws, it is at least an admissible supposition, that the 
element of Non-ego which Sir W. Hamilton regards as an 
original datum of consciousness, and which we certainly do 
find in our present consciousness, may not be one of its primi- 
tive elements — may not have existed at all in its first manifes- 
tations. But if this supposition be admissible, it ought, on 
Sir W. Hamilton's principles, to be received as true. The first 
of the laws laid down by him for the interpretation of Con- 
sciousness, the law (as he terms it) of Parcimony, forbids to 
suppose an original principle of our nature in order to account 
for phsenomena which admit of possible explanation from 
known causes. If the supposed ingredient of consciousness 
be one which might grow up (though we cannot prove that it 
did grow up) through later experience ; and if, when it had so 
grown up, it would, by known laws of our nature, appear as 
completely intuitive as our sensations themselves; we are 
bound, according to Sir W. Hamilton's and all sound philoso- 
phy, to assign to it that origin. Where there is a known cause 
adequate to account for a phenomenon, there is no justifica- 
tion for ascribing it to an unknown one. And what evidence 
does Consciousness furnish of the intuitiveness of an impres- 
sion, except instantaneousness, apparent simplicity, and un- 
consciousness on our part of how the impression came into our 
minds ? These features can only prove the impression to be 



448 THE P8TCH0L06ICAL THEOBT OP THK 

intuitive, on'the hypothesis that there are no means of account- 
ing for them otherwise. If they not only might, but naturally 
would, exist, even on the supposition that it is not intuitive, 
we must accept the conclusion to which we are led by the 
Psychological Method, and which the Introspective Method 
furnishes absolutely nothing to contradict. 

Matter, then, may be defined, a Permanent Possibility of 
Sensation. If I am asked, whether I believe in matter, I ask 
whether the questioner accepts this definition of it. If he 
does, I believe in matter : and so do all Berkeleians. In any 
other sense than this, I do not. But I affirm with confidence, 
that this conception of Matter includes the whole meaning 
attached to it by the common world, apart from philosophical, 
and sometimes from theological, theories. The reliance of 
mankind on the real existence of visible and tangible objects, 
means reliance on the reality and permanence of Possibilities 
of visual and tactual sensations, when no such sensations are 
actually experienced. We are warranted in believing that this 
is the meaning of Matter in the minds of many of its most 
esteemed metaphysical champions, though they themselves 
would not admit as much : for example, of Beid, Stewart, and 
Brown. For these three philosophers alleged that all man- 
kind, including Berkeley and Hume, really believed in Matter, 
inasmuch as unless they did, they would not have turned aside 
to save themselves from running against a post. Now all 
which this manoeuvre really proved is, that they believed in 
Permanent Possibilities of Sensation. We have therefore the 
unintentional sanction of these three eminent defenders of the 
existence of matter, for affirming, that to believe in Per- 
manent Possibilities of Sensation is believing in Matter. It 
is hardly necessary, after such authorities, to mention Dr. 
Johnson, or any one else who resorts to the argumentum 
baadinym of knocking a stick against the ground. Sir W. 
Hamilton, a far subtler thinker than any of these, never 
reasons in this manner. He never supposes that a disbeliever 
in what he means by Matter, ought in consistency to act in 
any difierent mode from those who believe in it. He knew 



BELIEF IN AN EXTERNAL WORLD. 449 

that the belief on which all the practical consequences depend, 
is the belief in Permanent Possibilities of Sensation, and that 
if nobody believed in a material universe in any other sense, 
life would go on exactly as it now does. He, however, did 
believe in more than this, but, I think, only because it had 
never occurred to him that mere Possibilities of Sensation 
could, to our artificialized consciousness, present the character 
of objectivity which, as we have now shown, they not only can, 
but unless the known laws of the human mind were sus- 
pended, must necessarily, present. 

Perhaps it may be objected, that the very possibility of 
framing such a notion of Matter as Sir W. Hamilton's — the 
capacity in the human mind of imagining an external world 
which is anything more than what the Psychological Theory 
makes it — amounts to a disproof of the theory. If (it may be 
said) we had no revelation in consciousness, of a world which 
is not in some way or other identified with sensation, we should 
be unable to have the notion of such a world. If the only 
ideas we had of external objects were ideas of our sensations, 
supplemented by an acquired notion of permanent possibilities 
of sensation, we must (it is thought) be incapable of conceiving, 
and therefore still more incapable of fancying that we perceive, 
things which are not sensations at all. It being evident how- 
ever that some philosophers believe this, and it being main- 
tainable that the mass of mankind do so, the existence of a 
perdurable basis of sensations, distinct firom sensations them- 
selves, is proved, it might be said, by the possibility of 
believing it. 

Let me first restate what I apprehend the belief to be. We 
believe that we perceive a. something closely related to all our 
sensations, but different from those which we are feeling at 
any particular minute ; and distinguished from sensations 
altogether, by being permanent and always the same, while 
these are fugitive, variable, and alternately displace one another. 
But these attributes of the object of perception are properties 
belonging to all the possibilities of sensation which experience 
guarantees. The belief in such permanent possibilities seema 

VOL. I. G G 



450 THE PSYCHOLOGICAL THEORT OP THE 

to me to include all that is essential or characteristic in the 
belief in substance. I believe that Calcutta exists, though I 
do not perceive it, and that it would still exist if every per- 
cipient inhabitant were suddenly to leave the place, or be struck 
dead. But when I analyse the belief, all I find in it is, 
that were these events to take place, the Permanent Possibility 
of Sensation which I call Calcutta would still remain ; that if 
I were suddenly transported to the banks of the Hoogly, I 
should still have the sensations which, if now present, would 
lead me to aflBrm that Calcutta exists here and now. We may 
infer, therefore, that both philosophers and the world at large, 
when they think of matter, conceive it really as a Permanent 
Possibility of Sensation. But the majority of philosophers 
fancy that it is something more; and the world at large, 
though they have really, as I conceive, nothing in their minds 
but a Permanent Possibility of Sensation, would, if asked the 
question, undoubtedly agree with the philosophers : and though 
this is sufficiently explained by the tendency of the human 
mind to infer difference of things from difference of names, I 
acknowledge the obligation of showing how it can be possible 
to believe in an existence transcending all possibilities of sen- 
sation, unless on the hypothesis that such an existence actually 
is, and that we actually perceive it. 

The explanation, however, is not difficult. It is an admitted 
fact, that we are capable of all conceptions which can be formed 
by generalizing from the observed laws of our sensations. 
Whatever relation we find to exist between any one of our 
sensations and something different from it, that same relation 
we have no difficulty in conceiving to exist between the sum 
of all our sensations and something different from them. The 
differences which our consciousness recognises between one 
sensation and another, give us the general notion of difference, 
and inseparably associate with every sensation we have, the 
feeling of its being different from other things : and when once 
this association has been formed, we can no longer conceive 
anything, without being able, and even being compelled, to 
form also the conception of something different from it. 




BELIEF IN AN EXTERNAL WORLD. 451 

This familiarity with the idea of something different from each 
thing we know, makes it natural and easy to form the notion 
of something different from all things that we know, collectively 
as well as individually. It is true we can form no conception 
of what such a thing can be ; our notion of it is merely nega- 
tive ; but the idea of a substance, apart from its relation to 
the impressions which we conceive it as making on our senses, 
ia a merely negative one. There is thus no psychological 
obstacle to our forming the notion of a something which is 
neither a sensation nor a possibility of sensation, even if our 
consciousness does not testify to it; and nothing is more 
likely than that the Permanent Possibilities of sensation, to 
which our consciousness does testify, should be confounded in 
our minds with this imaginary conception. All experience 
attests the strength of the tendency to mistake mental abstrac- 
tions, even negative ones, for substantive realities; and the 
Permanent Possibilities of sensation which experience gua- 
rantees, are so extremely unlike in many of their properties to 
actual sensations, that since we are capable of imagining some- 
thing which transcends sensations, there is a great natural 
probability that we should suppose these to be it. 

But this natural probability is converted into certainty, 
when we take into consideration that universal law of our ex- 
perience which is termed the law of Causation, and which 
makes us mentally connect with the beginning of everything, 
some antecedent condition, or Cause. The case of Causation 
is one of the most marked of all the cases in which wo extend 
to the sum total of our consciousness, a notion derived from 
its parts. It is a striking example of our power to conceive, 
and our tendency to believe, that a relation which subsists 
between every individual item of our experience and some 
other item, subsists also between our experience as a whole, 
and something not within the sphere of experience. By this 
extension to the sum of all our experiences, of the internal 
relations obtaining between its several parts, we are led to 
consider sensation itself — the aggregate whole of our sensa- 
tions — as deriving its origin from antecedent existences tran- 



452 THE PSTCHOLOOICAL THSORT OF THE 

scending sensation. That we should do this, is a consequence 
of the particular character of the uniform sequences, which 
experience discloses to us among our sensations. As already 
remarked, the constant antecedent of a sensation is seldom 
another sensation, or set of sensations, actually felt. It is 
much oftener the existence of a group of possibilities, not 
necessarily including any actual sensations, except such as 
are required to show that the possibilities are really present. 
Nor are actual sensations indispensable even for this purpose ; 
for the presence of the object (which is nothing more than 
the immediate presence of the possibilities) may be made 
known to us by the very sensation which we refer to as its 
effect. Thus, the real antecedent of an effect — the only ante- 
cedent which, being invariable and unconditional, we consider 
to be the cause — ^^may be, not any sensation really felt, but 
solely the presence, at that or the immediately preceding mo- 
ment, of a group of possibilities of sensation. Hence it is 
not with sensations as actually experienced, but with their 
Permanent Possibilities, that the idea of Cause comes to be 
identified : and we, by one and the same process, acquire the 
habit of regarding Sensation in general,* like all our indi- 
vidual sensations, as an Effect, and also that of conceiving as 
the causes of most of our individual sensations, not other 
sensations, but general possibilities of sensation. If all these 
considerations put together do not completely explain and ac- 
count for onr conceiving these Possibilities as a class of inde- 
pendent and substantive entities, I know not what psychological 
analysis can be conclusive. 

It may perhaps be said, that the preceding theory gives, 
indeed, some account of the idea of Permanent Existence 
which forms part of our conception of matter, but gives no 
explanation of our believing these permanent objects to be 
external, or out of ourselves. I apprehend, on the contrary, 
that the very idea of anything out of ourselves is derived solely 
from the knowledge experience gives us of the Permanent 
Possibilities. Our sensations we carry with us wherever we 
go, and they never exist where we are not ; but when we change 




BELIEF IN AN EXTERNAL WOELD. 453 

our place we do not carry away with us the Permanent Possi- 
bilities of Sensation: they remain until we return, or arise 
and cease under conditions with which our presence has in 
general nothing to do. And more than all — they are, and 
will be after we have ceased to feel, Permanent Possibilities of 
sensation to other beings than ourselves. Thus our actual 
sensations, and the Permanent Possibilities of sensation, stand 
out in obtrusive contrast to one another : and when the idea 
of Cause has been acquired, and extended by generalization 
from the parts of our experience to its aggregate whole, 
nothing can be more natural than that the Permanent 
Possibilities should be classed by us as existences generically 
distinct from our sensations, but of which our sensations are 
the eflfect. 

The same theory which accounts for our ascribing to an 
aggregate of possibilities of sensation, a permanent existence 
which our sensations themselves do not possess, and conse* 
quently a greater reality than belongs to our sensations, also 
explains our attributing greater objectivity to the Primary 
Qualities of bodies than to the Secondary. For the sensations 
which correspond to what are called the Primary Qualities 
(as soon at least as we come to apprehend them by two 
senses, the eye as well as the touch) are always present when 
any part of the group is so. But colours, tastes, smells, and 
the like, being, in comparison, fugacious, are not, in the same 
degree, conceived as being always there, even when nobody is 
present to perceive them. The sensations answering to the 
Secondary Qualities are only occasional, those to the Primary, 
constant. The Secondary, moreover, vary with different per- 
sons, and with the temporary sensibility of our organs ; the 
Primary, when perceived at all, are, as far as we know, the 
same to all persons and at all times. 



END OF VOL. I. 



lohdoh: 
bavilly edwards ahd co., fbuftibb, chaitdob 

coymbt oardiv. 




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